Folie à Deux
by DailyProphetEditor
Summary: Sequel to 'Goldilocks and the Four Heads of Houses'. Valentine's Day is over, and everybody is convinced that Minerva and Severus are a match made by Merlin himself. The only problem is... they don't seem to think so. Or do they?
1. The Morning After

_A/N: Alright, you convinced me… by popular demand, here's the sequel to "Goldilocks and the Four Heads of Houses." If you don't know it, go read (and review) "Goldilocks" first, it's short and IMHO funny._

"_Goldilocks" __could__ be a missing moment from CoS. __Here we're __definitely going AU._

_Since so many of you asked for it – how could I decline writing another Severus/Minerva love-story? They are the best pairing ever! This fic will resemble "Goldilocks" in serious silliness, and will also be told from different POVs. Updates will be sporadic (I recommend you put this on your alert list), as I'm working mostly on the "Wisdom and War Trilogy" and, you know, I do have a real life, too._

_Have fun. Leave lots of reviews ;-)_

_Frank_

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**Chapter 1 – ****The Morning After**

_**(Albus Dumbledore POV)**_

Late in the morning of Saturday, 15 February 1992, Albus Dumbledore sat down at the staff table, gently humming to himself. He was in a good mood. Yesterday's Valentine Day celebrations had been a smashing success – not, of course, in the way of creating a romantic mood.

He smiled when he remembered the events of the day before.

Most of the school-girls had liked the day. That shy little first-year, Ginny Weasley, had for once forgotten to look mournful and scared. Even Pansy Parkinson from Slytherin had blushed when she had seen young Mr Malfoy in the morning, and then hastily written a card for him. Albus was glad that the cold-hearted girl had displayed emotion for once.

The boys, of course, had not been too happy about the day – although Albus had spotted one third-year Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, present a rose to second-year Cho Chang with perfect gallantry.

The surly dwarfs hired by Lockhart had flat-out declared they would only wear their cupid costumes if they were to receive a bonus payment, but Albus had happily obliged to that.

Poor Mr Filch had been in a cranky mood all day, knowing that he would have to clean up the confetti later.

And the teachers… well, Albus had expected them not to like the surprise.

Minerva McGonagall had in the morning positively tried to kill Albus with vindictive glares. Filius had not talked to him all day, and even Septima Vector had refused to return his "A good Valentine's Day to you, my dear Professor!"

Sybill Trelawney had declared during breakfast that she would lock herself in her tower, claiming that "the Inner Eye is easily disturbed by the powerful emotions of bystanders" – which had caused Minerva to re-direct her killing stares at the Divination Professor.

Pomona Sprout had at a first good-naturedly tried to play along, but had changed out of her cherry-pink robes immediately after spotting Gilderoy Lockhart in similar ones. Albus had been polite enough not to mention it.

Severus had, of course, spent the day taking one hundred and sixty-nine points from students, which even included two points taken from Slytherin House – possibly a new 24-hour-record.

Yes, the day had indeed been a pandemonium of bad poetry and broken hearts, glittering decorations and scowling teachers, good intentions and irksome actions.

It had been perfect. _Everybody had forgotten to fear Slytherin's monster_. Truly a smashing success.

Albus now helped himself to some hot tea and looked around at the staff table. Minerva had declined to greet him, but now granted him an almost-invisible smile when he jinxed a toast with her favourite bitter orange marmalade to fly to her plate. Severus next to her refused to look at anyone, although Albus thought he heard him wince when Lockhart sat down at the table.

Pomona's face lit up. She smiled sweetly and leaned forward to greet the Defence teacher, who today was sporting robes of light blue velvet.

"Good morning, Gilderoy," she beamed. "I need to thank you again for that lovely surprise yesterday. It was _such_ a fun day."

Lockhart bowed his head elegantly, although the movement seemed a bit mechanical to Albus. Also it was news to the Headmaster that Pomona had _enjoyed_ the previous day.

"I am glad you enjoyed it, my dearest Pomona. It was, of course, meant merely to help the students cheer up, but all the better if some of the staff members enjoyed it as well."

Pomona laughed.

"Oh, I did absolutely. And I am so certain I'm not the only one who, ahem, entered into the spirit of the occasion."

Albus noticed that Minerva had stopped eating. She looked sternly at the Hufflepuff Head, who had now helped herself to a large quantity of porridge.

Lockhart nodded again. For some reason he did look rather annoyed.

"Always glad to help. Always considered it my job to take serious matters off other people's minds," he replied. "But unfortunately I may have to leave for a while…"

"You do?" Filius Flitwick piped up.

To Albus, the old Charms teacher sounded a little too hopeful to be polite.

"Leave for a while?" Albus asked. "Gilderoy, what is this all about?"

"I was going to tell you in a minute, Headmaster. You see, yesterday evening I received a letter from my publisher, at a most unfortunate time of course, but it seems he requires my presence in London for a new photo-shooting. 'Gadding with Ghouls' is to be published in France, and they want new pictures for the advertisements…"

"But we are right in the middle of a school-year, Gilderoy. I cannot just give you leave like that – surely you could do this on a weekend?" Albus replied.

"What a shame," Minerva said at _almost_ the same time, but really one second later than Albus. "But we do understand about such urgent matters, Gilderoy. We will certainly miss having you around for a while."

Albus looked at the Gryffindor Head in disbelief. Something he did not know about was going on here. True, Minerva was his Deputy Head, but she had never before made a staff decision before asking for his opinion. And there was something odd in her voice, almost a trace of… malice?

"Really, so sorry to see you go," Pomona hurriedly agreed with Minerva. "When you get to London, could you drop by in Diagon Alley and remind Mr Collins of the 'Flower Shoppe' that I really need that fertilizer? I am growing tired of sending Howlers twice a week."

Five seconds of stunned silence followed her words. Then, it was as though Albus had never said anything at all. Most of the professors spoke up at the same time.

"Maybe we other teachers could share taking over your classes," Filius suggested seriously. "Then the students won't miss too much during the few days you are gone."

"If you go to Diagon Alley for Pomona, there is a little something I need from 'Future Revelations' – I was going to order a new pack of Tarot cards, but an Inner Voice told me that I would get around paying extra for the owl order…"

"Of course, I would not mind teaching Defence once or twice a week," Septima pondered. "I was rather good at it in school."

"Me too," Aurora Sinistra grinned. "And I don't have classes during the day-time at all. No problem, Gilderoy, do enjoy a few days in London. Merlin knows we've… er, _you_ have earned it."

Even Charity Burbage, who hardly ever said anything at all, claimed that the whole staff would "dearly miss the most handsome teacher around, but understood the necessity of a photo-shooting."

Rolanda Hooch went as far as offering one of the stronger school brooms so Lockhart would not have to apparate with all his luggage. Only Severus seemed to think that his well-know sneer was a sufficient answer.

Albus looked at Minerva again and found that her sharp eyes were already focused on him. He had no idea why Minerva wanted the Defence teacher gone for a while – other than for the obvious reason that she had never liked him – but Albus had the impression that she was serious about this.

She did not _ask_ Albus to let Gilderoy Lockhart go for a while. The look on her face told him that he would be in grim trouble if she had to endure Lockhart's presence one minute longer than necessary.

"Well, then it is settled, Gilderoy," he said slowly. "I did not want to cause the rest of the staff extra work, but since they are so willing to take over your tasks… I should think a one-week leave will do."

"Thank you, Headmaster. – And thank you, my esteemed colleagues. I shall return to my rooms and do my packing immediately. See you all again next weekend."

The blond wizard positively jumped up from his seat and turned to leave his place at the table. The rest of the staff watched him in silence, most of them smiling cheerfully.

"Coward."

Severus had barely whispered the word, but his voice carried well and he looked directly at Lockhart. Gilderoy Lockhart spun around again.

"What did you just say?"

"I called you a coward," Snape said, baring his teeth.

"How dare you! The Minister himself has awarded me the Order of Merlin, Third Class, and – "

"The Minister was a fool when he did that. You are a coward, Lockhart. There was no letter from your publisher, and I bet you were planning to send an owl from London that you cannot return here because of other urgent matters. You merely run from this school because you cannot face the fact that you embarrassed yourself."

"Severus –" Albus tried to warn the younger wizard. Whatever this discussion was about, he was not sure if it was fit for the public.

"You set me up," Lockhart bawled. "You knew she'd come looking for you, hell, if you had really wanted me gone you'd have duelled me properly."

"He wasn't carrying his wand, you idiot," Pomona hissed. "And you could have known for yourself that Minerva would come to the library, she talked about it at lunch."

"Nonsense! I never heard her say that!"

"She did say it," Filius confirmed quietly. "I heard her."

"Silence, everyone," Albus said decidedly.

He was glad to notice that this time his authority was not undermined. Most of the teachers looked just as confused as he was, but the four Heads of Houses and Lockhart seemed to know exactly what they were talking about.

Lockhart's face was flushed with anger. He stared at Severus, who returned the look with equal contempt. Minerva had pressed her lips into a thin line. Pomona and Filius both looked as though they were suppressing a smile.

"What happened in the library yesterday?" Albus asked.

"Nothing!" Lockhart said hurriedly.

Severus sneered again, but then he turned to Albus.

"Nothing of importance, Headmaster. I apologise for mentioning it."

"If you say so, Severus," Albus replied. "Gilderoy, if you can show me that letter from your publisher, you are free to go for one week. Otherwise I am afraid I shall have to insist you stay here and do your job."

Lockhart nodded irritably, then he turned around and swept out of the Great Hall – no doubt he would first thing fake a letter from his publisher and present it to Albus later. The Headmaster sighed.

"You know," Sybill said haughtily. "I _did_ tell you all at New Year's Eve that strange things would happen at the beginning of this year. Everyone laughed at me, as usual, but this morning my tea leaves show that something important happened last night – look!"

She held her tea cup so that Albus could see it, thereby spilling the last sip of her tea on the tablecloth. Albus did not need to take a closer look to know that he would see nothing but, in fact, used tea leaves and a lump of sugar.

"What, so now you're unfogging the _past_?" Severus muttered.

"Severus, what happened in the library yesterday?" Albus repeated his words sternly.

The young wizard looked annoyed, but Albus knew he would answer.

"It truly was nothing of importance. Lockhart and I… discussed a misunderstanding in the library last night. Things almost got a little out of hand, but Minerva attempted to help us."

"What do you mean, _attempted_? You got out of it without any harm done," Minerva indignantly spoke up.

"But your exquisitely brilliant idea will of course not work in the long run. Have you ever considered that this, ahem, _statement_ you made last night will have consequences?"

"I did not make a statement, I merely suggested something to divert Lockhart a bit. _You_ had to go and exaggerate things."

"I did not exaggerate, I only made this believable."

"Oh no, not the least bit," Pomona said, her voice dripping with irony.

"What was this discussion about, Severus?" Albus cut in.

He was not in the mood for one of the famous Slytherin/Gryffindor arguments today.

"What?"

Severus had been busy scowling at Minerva. Pomona laughed once more.

"This discussion you had with Lockhart. What was it about?"

Albus grew increasingly impatient. If something serious happened in the school, he did consider it his duty to know about it and interfere.

"I would rather not say that, Headmaster."

Albus was on the verge of telling the younger wizard what he thought of this disrespectful demeanour when he caught Pomona's eye. The Head of Hufflepuff had tears of laughter in her eyes and was winking at him.

'Tell you later,' she mouthed, her eyes darting to Severus and Minerva again.

The Heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin were glaring at each other, ready to resume their argument.

"Then," Albus said hurriedly, "let us change the subject."

"Good idea, Headmaster," Filius agreed.

They looked at each other in uncomfortable silence. No one had an idea what to talk about.

"What's in the 'Daily Prophet' this morning?" Aurora finally asked.

Rolanda handed her the paper.

"Nothing big. Fudge's going to see the Australian Minister for Magic today, and they will attend a League Cup Quidditch game together. It's Puddlemere United against Appleby Arrows… that will be a fine game. The Arrows have played a series of strong wins this year. They usually do better in winter games."

"Speaking of Quidditch –" Severus said.

"You will not take that back!" Minerva interrupted him.

"Excuse me?"

"We had a deal, Severus. You will not take that back. Slytherin will not use the pitch during the next two weeks."

"Which is just what I was going to tell our Quidditch Instructor. I believe Rolanda would like to know that Gryffindor has taken over our training hours."

"You have given Slytherin training hours to the Gryffindor team? _Really_?" Rolanda inquired.

"Really," Minerva said. "I apologise, Severus, it would just have been so very like you to try wriggling out of this again."

"So now you are saying that it is my habit to break my word? We did make a deal."

"What kind of deal?" Albus wanted to know.

"Severus offered to give us some extra training time in return for the little favour I did him last night."

"I am not so sure anymore that this actually was a favour," Severus scowled.

"I cannot believe you would say this!"

"I cannot believe you would think I'd break my word."

Both Severus and Minerva jumped from their seats, intending to storm out of the Great Hall.

Albus chuckled softly. The irony of the situation was perfect. Since both teachers had had the idea at the same time, one of them would now have to give in and remain at the staff table, or they would have to leave the hall _together_ – which would most certainly spoil the effect of a dramatic exit.

Several students in the Great Hall had spotted the quarrelling teachers and started giggling and pointing.

"Minerva," Albus leaned forward, "I was going to ask you about your opinion concerning this new study in 'Transfiguration Today'. Would you care to discuss this now over another up of tea?"

Minerva looked at him. She had recognised that certain edge in his voice which only showed on the few occasions when he did remind her that he was her superior.

"Certainly, Dumbledore."

She sat down again. Severus seized the chance to turn on the spot and sweep out of the Great Hall. Both students and teachers watched him take his leave.

"Now, Minerva," Albus said. "What happened in the library yesterday?"

His deputy closed her eyes for a moment.

"Albus… I really, really do not want to talk about it," she all but pleaded. "Not here. Not now."

He understood. This was, indeed, about something personal. He still did not understand how Lockhart figured into the equation, but decided to let the matter drop – for now.

"Then you may go," he said. "If you wish, that is."

Minerva nodded and got up from her seat. She slowly left the Great Hall and managed to attract less attention than her Slytherin colleague.

"A bit touchy this morning, are we?" Septima pondered.

Albus turned to the two remaining Heads of Houses.

"Gifted with this extraordinary power of observation, I do have the impression that you two know what this was all about?"

"We do," Pomona said.

Albus had not forgotten that she had had the cheek to goad the other teachers into agreeing with Minerva about dismissing Lockhart.

"I am waiting for you to enlighten me."

Pomona looked at her hands for a second.

"I am not sure if it is – well, _alright_ to tell everyone."

Filius and Pomona exchanged one last look, then Pomona finally decided to get this over with.

"Lockhart tried to, ahem, seduce Severus. They almost started a serious fight, and Minerva prevented it. Lockhart now thinks that they are an item because she confirmed that Severus is not interested in men."

"Ahem, one thing must have led to another and they had to pretend to – welltheykissed," Filius muttered hurriedly. "Of course it was only acting."

A moment of stunned silence followed his words. Sybill was the first one to recover.

"See! The Inner Eye never lies!"

Charity dropped her glass of pumpkin juice. Pomona grinned again. One by one, the teachers started laughing.

"Oh dear," Albus said.

Now the exceptionally hostile behaviour of the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor made sense. Naturally, they now had to prove desperately that they did not mean anything to each other.

_Oh dear…_


	2. Of Course Not, My Dear

**Chapter 2 - Of Course Not, My Dear**

_**(Minerva McGonagall POV)**_

Minerva McGonagall left the Great Hall and walked directly to her classroom. Once inside, she locked the door behind herself, double-locked it with an extra spell, and silenced the premises.

Then she swore. Loudly. And repeatedly. Ah, that usually-suppressed Scottish drawl came in so useful when employing the vocabulary she had many years ago picked up from her father's gamekeeper after his evenings at the local pub.

Just what _had_ she been thinking on the previous evening?

She had kissed Severus Snape. A man forty years younger. A man who had once been her student. A former Death Eater who might be reformed, but still constantly put on the act of the Fiend Of All Things Good.

One did not kiss men like that. Merlin's beard, the man was a _Slytherin_!

Of course, it was all Pomona Sprout's fault. Pomona with her stupid talk of kissing Severus and how very pleasant it would be if Severus owed her favour. And Pomona had brought up the Quidditch matter only minutes earlier. It was all the Hufflepuff's fault that Minerva's mind had still been on Quidditch.

Really, it had all seemed so very simple the way the Hufflepuff Head had suggested things. Just pretend to like Severus a little, and voila! he would have to _pay_ for allowing Malfoy to buy the new Nimbus 2001's for his whole team and snatching the Quidditch pitch from the Gryffindors. Pomona knew very well that Minerva would do just about anything to help her team.

Pomona had failed to mention that the moment after the kiss would feel very awkward, or that Minvera would hardly sleep during the following night, or that she and Severus would now continually quarrel for the rest of the term.

Minerva exhaled slowly and tried to calm herself.

To be fair, she could not blame her friend for not mentioning the latter consequence. She and Severus _always_ quarrelled about something when he was in a bad mood.

Hm, so Severus was in a bad mood after kissing her? That was not exactly a compliment for Minerva, after all, he had been eager enough on the previous evening…

… well, but he had only been acting then. Acting! That kiss had _not_ been real.

The Head of Gryffindor paced through her classroom. If truth be told, she knew that she was angry with no one but herself.

It would not do to blame Pomona for something Minerva had done… or to blame Severus for… well, for being Severus. As though Minerva had not known he would seize the first opportunity to insult her after she had helped him out of that little encounter with Lockhart.

_'I am not so sure anymore that this actually was a favour.' _– really, the audacity to say something like that!

Minerva paced the room some more and resisted the urge to bang her head against the wall. She was furious. Furious with herself. She had acted like a foolish teenager. No doubt Pomona would spread the story and Minerva would hear about this some more from various staff members.

And from Dumbledore. But first he would want to know why she did not wish to see Lockhart any time soon (or, for that matter, ever again).

Let's see… she had left the breakfast table at around ten, then the Headmaster would have finished his breakfast without hurry (another fifteen minutes?), then he would go to his rooms and pretend to do some headmasterly things (five minutes), and then come to speak to her about contradicting him concerning the Lockhart question (allow another five minutes for the way from his office to her rooms, and then upon not finding her there, to this classroom).

It was half past ten already. He was five minutes late. Indeed, strange things did happen in Hogwarts nowadays.

Minerva sat down at her desk and started grading student essays. She needed something to distract her now. Maybe, hopefully, she had been wrong with her prediction about Dumbledore.

Another few minutes passed. Minerva thought she grew a little calmer while reading Ron Weasley's homework paper, which naturally strongly resembled Hermione Granger's. She scribbled _'A noteworthy effort. Mr Weasley, would it be too much to ask for not to copy Miss Granger's essay next time, but to repeat her work in your own words at least?' _under the essay and then immediately erased her words.

Honestly, she was not quite herself this morning. Minerva was no stranger to sarcasm (especially when a certain Divination teacher was involved), but she would never use it against a student. One had to be a Slytherin to do evil things like that.

Minerva was almost glad when the door to her classroom was opened effortlessly as though it had not been double-locked at all. She did not need to look up to know it was the Headmaster.

"Headmaster, might I have a word?"

Good Merlin. And Lockhart, too.

"Certainly, if it really is just a word –"

At least Dumbledore did not seem eager to talk to Lockhart, either.

"So sorry if I interrupt you, Headmaster, were you going somewhere?"

"Oh, I was merely going to ask Minerva if she would care to come to Hogsmeade with me – I could do with some hot chocolate at the 'Three Broomsticks.'"

Minerva finally looked at the two wizards and saw that Dumbledore was already wearing his warm winter cloak. She would not be able to talk herself out of this excursion to Hogsmeade. Sighing, she put her quill and the papers away.

"I shall go and get my cloak," she said. "Meet you in the Entrance Hall in five minutes, Dumbledore."

Ten minutes later, they were on their way to the village. This Saturday was ridiculously bright with sunshine and not a cloud in the sky and glittering snow everywhere. Minerva was not in the mood for beautiful landscape today.

Dumbledore was again gently humming to himself. He had not yet said a word. Always the perfect gentleman.

They walked on. Frozen snow scrunched under their feet. Albus seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood.

It really was a nasty technique; all that humming and the friendly smile. Minerva _knew_ Albus wanted to speak to her. Couldn't the man just get it over with?

"Albus?"

"Yes, Minerva?"

"I am truly sorry that I – well, contradicted you about Lockhart this morning. I don't know what I was thinking."

"No offence taken, my dear. Our Defence professor has apparently in the meantime decided to skip this photo-shooting and will remain at Hogwarts."

Oh, goody.

"Maybe that is for the better," Minerva said seriously.

"I cannot help thinking that it was Severus's accusation that persuaded him to stay," Dumbledore pondered.

"I don't think that was Severus's intention," Minerva replied. "He is as eager as everyone else to see Lockhart go."

Oh yes, she did bet that Severus now wished he had been able to hold his tongue. But that was Severus, he was unable to stop himself insulting everyone in hearing distance. Well, anyone except for Dumbledore maybe.

"I did have the impression that everyone is a bit… fed up with considering Gilderoy a fellow teacher. Minerva, you know that he was the only choice we had. Nobody else wanted the job."

"Nobody but Severus."

"I am sure you are aware that he only pretends to want this position. The day may come when he has to explain why he remained at Hogwarts all these years."

"Of course."

Minerva bit her lower lip. Thinking about Severus's past usually put things into perspective. Petty little arguments did not matter so much when one reminded oneself that this young wizard had risked his life for them all – and might have to do so again.

"But speaking of Lockhart," Dumbledore continued brightly, "I must say I am sorry that this Valentine's Day proved to be so unpleasant for the teaching staff."

"It was not the most enjoyable day Hogwarts has ever seen, but I suppose we will get over it."

They walked on in silence; this time a silence much more comfortable than the earlier one. The village of Hogsmeade appeared in the distance. Smoke was rising from the chimneys and a few children were playing in the snow. It was a charming scene. Minerva almost smiled.

"You did not enjoy it at all?" Dumbledore continued their conversation after a while.

Mineva had heard him suppress a chuckle. Oh, great. _He knew already_.

"Dumbledore, would you mind not fooling around and getting to the point?" she said rather tersely.

"Forgive me, my dear. – So I hear that as of late last night, the Heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin got along unusually well?"

_'Got along unusually well.'_ Well, that was one way of putting it. Leave it to Dumbledore to come up with a polite paraphrase.

"For Merlin's sake, it was an entirely stupid idea. I don't know what possessed me to… play along."

Play along? _She_ had started this… encounter. Minerva cringed inwardly.

"Apparently, it did work rather well. Gilderoy seems quite convinced that Severus is spoken for."

Superb. Just what she had wanted, hadn't she?

"Did Pomona say that?"

"No, the painting of 'Bartholomew the Bibliophile' in the library."

Oh. Yes. Darn talking pictures. That would explain why the Headmaster had shown up later than she had calculated. Minerva walked on, unable to think of anything to say.

"You look unhappy this morning, Minerva."

Oh, really? Unhappy, and that after a night like this? How come? The fact that she had battled with a guilty conscience had of course nothing to do with that.

"What do you expect me to look like? I did something entirely stupid."

"Why would kissing Severus be something stupid?"

"Dumbledore –" Minerva stopped and grabbed the Headmaster's arm. "You have the nerve to _joke_ about this incident?"

"I am far from joking, my dear Professor McGonagall, I was merely asking."

She saw the twinkle in his eyes. This was not bright sunlight reflecting on the half-moon spectacles, this was a genuine, amused twinkle in bright blue eyes. It was infuriating.

"Then," the Deputy Headmistress said icily, "yes, do let me enlighten you. It is stupid to kiss a man of half my age, who is a former student and now a fairly unpleasant colleague. And I do not wish to talk about it any more."

And it was entirely stupid to think that this kiss had actually not been that bad…

On an objective scale, naturally. She was not interested in Severus. It was merely comparing his kissing technique to other experiences that lead to the conclusion that the Head of Slytherin was not entirely devoid of the knowledge how to properly kiss a woman.

Stupid. _Entirely stupid._

"As you wish, my dear. Do let us go to the 'Three Broomsticks' now; it is freezing cold and I find myself longing for a hot drink."

"Of course, Albus."

Minerva was glad when they finally reached the pub. Their heated discussion had made her forget the cold, but now she did feel rather chilly.

Dumbledore opend the door for Minerva and found a table for them. Minerva looked around in disgust. Even the 'Broomsticks' landlady Madam Rosmerta had not refrained from decorating the place for Valentine's Day. There still were garlands of pink and red hearts everywhere.

She took her woolen cloak off and sat down. The Headmaster had already ordered his chocolate and her plain black tea.

"There is one more thing I must ask you, Minerva. I do hope you will forgive me."

"What, Albus?" Minerva said exasperatedly.

"Perhaps you had already guessed. That… occurence yesterday night – was that the reason why you were so eager to send Gilderoy away this morning? So that you would not have to continue acting this part?"

Minerva took her time answering. Seizing the chance to get rid of Lockhart had mostly been an instinctive act.

"I admit that might have played into it," she finally said. "I simply was glad there was a chance to get rid of his company. His presence did naturally remind me of the incident again."

"But of course you know that, alas, we will have to keep him until the end of the school-year."

"Of course I know, Albus." Minerva took a sip from her tea. "Please do forget I ever mentioned this. I am not quite myself today."

"Not at all, my dear. I wish you would not worry so much about the whole thing. I don't think Severus will remain angry for long. You know he has to put on this act so he can convince himself that he is not glad you helped him."

Minerva actually smiled.

"You know him very well, Albus."

"Sometimes I think that you know him best of us all, Minerva. He likes you, even if he works hard on concealing that particular fact."

Albus smiled sagely.

"Actually, Minerva, I think he likes you very much. It is too bad that neither one of you will admit how much you care for each other."

"Albus, are you trying to – to talk me into something here?"

"Of course not, my dear. Of course not."

There was that prudent smile again. And that twinkle in his eyes. And… all those things that defined wise, all-knowing, ever-kind Albus Dumbledore.

Sometimes Minerva hated that man.


	3. Brave New Wizard

**Chapter ****3 – Brave New Wizard**

_**(Gilderoy Lockhart POV)**_

Gilderoy Lockhart closed the office door behind himself and then leaned against the door. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. That breakfast conversation had _not_ gone well.

Gilderoy waited another moment before opening his eyes.

He knew that he was cheating himself – _two more seconds_ – but the photographs on the wall needed those few seconds to take the rollers out of their hair – _one more second_ – and Gilderoy knew that the effect of seeing his portraits greet himself was twice as good if every portrait was in perfect shape – _now_.

It was true. A man's home was his castle, especially if the home greeted the owner so joyfully. That big picture of himself wearing those daringly tight purple robes even winked at Gilderoy with boyish audacity.

Gilderoy crossed his office and entered his private rooms, his mood now somewhat improved. A startled house-elf darted from his bedroom where she had been ironing his robes – it was quite a friendly creature, so very glad that she could serve this famous wizard.

But for once, Gilderoy was not in the mood to be admired blindly. He needed to calm down and think about everything that had taken place in the past twelve hours. He shooed the elf away.

Ten o'clock in the morning did seem a bit early for Ogden's Old Firewhisky, so he settled for some more tea instead and sat down on his elegant ottoman. Later he might read some fan mail; that always helped him cheer up – and after that embarrassing scene last night he was in much need of cheering up.

He just could not believe it. He, Gilderoy Lockhart, the man with the golden hair and the brightest smile this side of the Atlantic, _he_ had failed to seduce another wizard. Downright embarrassing. Besides, being rejected like that did most certainly cause wrinkles.

It was time to re-consider what had happened and re-evaluate what he was going to do. Things had seemed easy enough early in the morning. Gilderoy had conjured up an excuse to leave the school and after that, staying in London forever would have been a piece of cake.

But after that conversation at breakfast Gilderoy knew that he could not leave like that. The other teachers had heard Severus's accusation. If Gilderoy went away now, they might in the end believe it – and the last thing Gilderoy needed was a tarnished spot on his brightly shining image. Merlin, _'Gadding with Ghouls_' was indeed to be published in France next month; he could not afford to risk anything.

Gilderoy decided to be brave and stay at Hogwarts. After all, he did know about bravery, didn't he? He had stolen hundreds of memories from truly brave people, so he could technically be considered an expert on the matter.

Staying would also solve the problem with the Headmaster. After all, that man was not entirely senile. He was kind and understanding, and always wanted to see the best in other people – but he was no fool. The old man would have allowed Gilderoy to go without even checking if his story was true, but now, after Severus's (unfortunately true) accusations Gilderoy would have to produce proof.

He could fake that letter of course, no problem there, maybe his publisher would even send a real one if he flooed him right now and asked for it – the chap did owe him a favour anyway. But then again… Albus Dumbledore was not to be messed with. Even if Gilderoy left for a week the Headmaster would insist that he came back for the rest of the school-year.

He stood up and walked to his mirror, checking his reflection. Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce Gilderoy Lockhart, the _Brave New Gilderoy_ who would stand up to anything and solve whichever problem… really, he would need to do a relaxing facial treatment later that day. That night without sleep had left him with dark rings under his eyes.

But first he would go talk to the Headmaster and then take a brisk walk outside. The fresh winter air would do him good and help him regain much-needed energy.

Gilderoy left his rooms in search for Dumbledore. On the second floor, right behind the statue of 'Carlo the Clairvoyant Centaur', he met Argus Filch and Severus Snape.

_Darn._

Filch, a bottle of 'Mrs Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover' clutched in his hand, was agitatedly explaining something.

"… it's those blasted pink flowers, Professor Snape, they started meltin' last night, can't have been proper magic that created them. Only the elves have been scrubbing at the stains for hours, I just wondered if one of the teachers could '_scourgify_' them or something…"

"Yes, Filch, I will see to that – later," Severus replied curtly.

He had spotted Gilderoy in the corridor, but obviously chose to ignore him.

The Brave New Gilderoy Lockhart marched right on and smiled.

"Severus," he greeted brightly, indicating that he was willing to forgive their breakfast argument.

Severus sneered. He did not seem in a good mood this morning.

Come to think of it, he and Minerva had not talked at all during breakfast. In fact, Gilderoy had seen them quarrelling in the Entrance Hall before joining the other teachers at the staff table… something about the Weasleys and confetti and undermining each other's authority with students present.

_Quite_ interesting. Had celebrating Valentine's Day lead to trouble in paradise?

Gilderoy beamed another smile at Mr Filch and continued on his way to the Headmaster's office, but then he spotted Dumbledore entering the Transfiguration classroom.

"Headmaster, might I have a word?"

"Certainly, if it really is just a word –"

Dumbledore was dressed in a heavy navy-blue cloak and held red gloves and matching earmuffs in his right hand – Merlin's beard, _red_ gloves and muffs, had the man no fashion sense?

"So sorry if I interrupt you, Headmaster, were you going somewhere?"

"Oh, I was merely going to ask Minerva if she would care to come to Hogsmeade with me – I could do with some hot chocolate at the 'Three Broomsticks.'"

Gilderoy looked at Minerva, who sat at her desk in her classroom. She did not look ecstatic about the invitation, but pushed her papers away after Dumbledore smiled at her.

"I shall go and get my cloak," she said tersely. "Meet you in the Entrance Hall in five minutes, Dumbledore."

Gilderoy bestowed another of his charming smiles on her when she passed the men, but received only an irritable nod in return. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Is something wrong, Headmaster?" Gilderoy inquired curiously. "Minerva does seem a bit preoccupied this morning."

"I am certain it will pass," Dumbledore replied. "Most likely she just has a headache. You know how delicate some ladies are."

A headache. Ha! A _headache_, indeed – the standard female excuse for any bad mood. More likely that Minerva still felt subdued after her latest argument with Severus. On the morning after Valentine's Day, a happy couple should not act like that…

"You wanted to talk to me, Gilderoy?"

"Ah, yes, of course. Headmaster, I have given the matter some more thought. Educating young witches and wizards is so much more important than a photo-shooting – so I shall not leave."

"I am glad to hear that you think so."

"I suppose I was a bit excited about this publication in France – really, who wouldn't, 'Witch Weekly' is going to interview me again – but I think my publisher was overdoing things a bit when he demanded new pictures. After all, what is wrong with the old ones, they are gorgeous…"

Gilderoy smiled about his little joke, of course, the old pictures were _perfect_ – his hair had been at just the right length and he had used that teeth-bleaching powder on the night before.

"Very good, Gilderoy," the Headmaster said. "Now if you would please excuse me, I should not want to keep Minerva waiting."

"I shall accompany you to the front doors, I was intending to take a short walk myself."

In the Entrance Hall, Gilderoy took his leave and went outside. It was quite chilly, but the snow was beautiful. He wandered aimlessly in the general direction of the Great Lake.

Only a minute or so later, Dumbledore and his Deputy Headmistress emerged from the castle and marched off in the direction of the village. Minerva still looked a bit cross. It was really kind of Dumbledore to distract her by inviting her to Hogsmeade. Obviously the old wizard had noticed that something was wrong.

Gilderoy went to the lakeshore and sat down on a big rock. It was bitter cold, too bad he was not good at heating charms. He would have to return to the castle soon, but first Gilderoy needed think a few things over.

The Defence teacher turned to the sun and closed his eyes. The warm sunshine felt good on his face, and sporting a healthy tan in winter always made a man look younger. He drew in a deep breath and relaxed, then he felt ready to ponder the matters on his mind.

First and foremost, he needed to analyse where – and if! – he had gone wrong in his estimation of Severus's reactions. After all, the signals the Potions Master had sent him had been clear enough. The thought alone that Gilderoy might have misunderstood something was ridiculous.

But now Gilderoy also knew for a fact that Severus lived in an established relationship. The Defence teacher smiled ruefully when he remembered that he had, in fact, months ago already suspected the Heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin to be more than just friends.

Yes, he was _good_ at picking up things like that! (Which, naturally, only meant that he must have been right about interpreting Severus's looks in his direction!)

Gilderoy had back then ruled out the possibility of that relationship because common sense spoke against it. Why would the strangely handsome Potions Master sleep with a woman twice as old as he was? But apparently said Potions Master had not adhered to common sense and had given himself away under market value.

Gilderoy got up from his seat and started to walk back to the castle. It was simply too cold to linger outside. Ah, too bad that things had gone so wrong on the previous night. Minerva had shown up at a most inconvenient time. Who knew what might have happened if she had not entered the library…

He stopped dead. Of course, that was it! It was all Minerva's fault! Suddenly it all made sense.

Severus was caught in this not-so-happy relationship with a much older woman – not only was she older, she also was his superior. Most likely he had realised just how unhappy he was with this liaison when Gilderoy had shown up at Hogwarts. That explained those intense glances the Potions Master always threw at Gilderoy.

He wanted the Defence teacher, but was not allowed to want him. The strict Deputy Headmistress most certainly had a tight rein on him. Why, she sometimes treated the man as though he still was her student!

Gilderoy hurried back to his rooms and decided to take a hot bath while mulling things over. He was absolutely certain that he was right with his theory, but if he was going to stay at Hogwarts, he needed to know exactly what he was up against.

Soon he had filled the bathtub with hot water and added some of his favourite liquid soaps – the kind that actually made the water sparkle in addition to creating bubbles. Then he put a bottle of sweet cherry liqueur (an inconsiderate gift from a fan, honestly, _everybody_ knew he liked Ogden's!) and two glasses on his dressing table in the bathroom. Gilderoy Lockhart knew how to extract information from other peoples' minds. Or elves' minds, in this particular case…

He filled one of the glasses to the brim with the cherry liqueur. Then he undressed and got into the bathtub, relishing the hot water. Of course he was careful not to wet his hair, blond locks did unfortunately not look good when dripping with water. Gilderoy clicked his fingers and called, "Elf!"

The small house-elf appeared instantly. She blushed and smiled shyly when she saw that Gilderoy was in the bathtub. He smiled brightly.

"Ah, there you are, my dear – what was your name again?"

"Tibby, sir…" the elf muttered.

"Splendid, Tibby, such a beautiful name… Tibby, dearest, I was going to have a drink but forgot my glass over there, could you hand it to me? – Of course I could just get it myself, but then I would drip water all over the place and that would mean extra work for you… and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

The elf's ears went slightly pink. She hurried to get Gilderoy a glass of the revolting cherry liqueur.

"Master is very considerate," she said happily. "Anything else sir needs?"

"No, dear, really, I do not want you to overexert yourself. You are doing a great job in my quarters."

Another bright smile.

"Tibby, why don't you take a break for a moment? You house-elves always work so hard."

"Yes, Master."

The elf sat down on his bathroom rug, obviously torn between awkwardness and happiness.

Gilderoy took a sip of his liqueur and resisted the urge to spit it out again. The brew tasted like cough drops mixed with sugar water. And extra honey.

"Tibby, I heard that house-elves generally prefer sweet foods. Is that true? There is so much I don't know about you…"

"Yes, Master, house-elves likes sweets. Tibby too."

"Then why don't you try a bit of that cherry liqueur? Really, I insist. You will love it."

"But Master, house-elves is not to drink alcohol, Tibby could not work then."

"Nonsense, my dear, this is not strong stuff. Just try a little. Please, won't you do it for me?"

He winked at Tibby and licked his lips after taking another sip of the liqueur.

"It's delicious…" he whispered.

Tibby blushed again, but she scrambled to her feet and poured maybe a teaspoon of the crimson liquid into the other glass.

"Thank you, Master," she muttered.

Then she carefully tried the liqueur and smiled.

"This is very good, Master. Tibby likes sweet cherry a lot."

"Then have some more, my dearest – here, take my glass, then you can tell your little friends that we have truly shared a drink…"

The house-elf flapped her large ears in excitement. She drained her glass in with another sip and eagerly reached for Gilderoy's.

"Master is very generous," she said. "Very good Master."

"Not at all, Tibby, not at all. Just make yourself comfortable and drink the rest of my glass –" he winked again, "that is an order."

Poor Tibby sat down on the rug and held the glass in front of her. It was almost as big as her fist.

Gilderoy watched her with a big smile. House-elves were so delightfully simple, and such a wonderful source of information. That one on his rug was already so focused on the sweet drink that she had forgotten about all the consequences – he had ordered her to drink just to be on the safe side.

For the next five minutes, Gilderoy closed his eyes and pretended to be dozing in his hot bath. Tibby smacked her lips frequently. When Gilderoy opened his eyes again she was already down to the last drops in the glass.

"Tibby, dear?"

"Yesss."

The elf stood up and swayed slightly on the spot.

"What did I tell you, that stuff is not strong. I could never tell you've just had a tiny sip of an alcoholic beverage."

"Th- thankyou, Master."

Tibby hiccupped a little.

"Is very good, this cherry drink. Good for Tibby."

"Then do help yourself to some more, dearest."

Tibby walked to the bottle with uneasy, careful steps. Gilderoy grinned. He was brilliant at doing this.

"Tibby, I do envy you house-elves."

"Envy, Master? Whys that? Yous is a great wizzard and…"

"Yes, but you elves _know_ so much. With your natural magic, you can just go _anywhere_. I bet there is nothing going on in the castle that you do not know of."

"Maybe…"

Tibby sat down on the floor again, or rather she fell hard on her behind. Some of the liqueur from her glass was dribbled on the floor.

"Whoopss… Tibby must clean this."

"Don't bother, my dear Tibby, not now. Do tell me about the things that happen in this place."

"Tibby knows everything. All house-elves knows."

"Splendid, just what I expected. Tell me, what do the elves think about all that House rivalry?"

"Is not good, sir, not good. Houses fight, wizards and witches fight… and always elves have to clean up when students duel in the corridors or throw dung bombs…"

"But surely not all students are like that? Like the Hufflepuffs, they seem fairly good-natured."

"Master is right, of course, Master is right…" Tibby looked at him smartly. "Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, theys is nice. Is only Gryffindor and Slys.. Slytherin that fight."

She took another sip of her cherry drink. Gilderoy had to get to the point before she would get too drunk and pass out.

"Awful, so awful that the students cause you so much extra work. I shall have to speak to them about it. But surely that is only because their teachers goad them on in this stupid rivalry?"

"Only with Quidditch, sir. Mistress McGonagall is very fond of Quidditch. And Master Snape likes broom-flying, likes it too. But –" Tibby gesticulated with her left hand, trying to find the words.

"They is not enemies," she then said. "Everybody thinks but Tibby knows. Theys always play chess and go out together and when they is alone they never says 'Professor', is always 'Minerva' and 'Severus', it is…"

Indeed. Gilderoy had already noticed that even before that _demonstration_ last night. Quidditch, chess matches, all those lively discussions and arguments… considering that they were Heads of rivalling Houses, they spend quite an amount of time together.

"They go out together? Where to?"

"Tibby not knows. Professors go for walks together, and Master Snape only goes to 'Three Broomsticks' when Mistress or Headmaster demands, never when other teachers ask."

Right. Gilderoy had already wondered why the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor would sometimes go for a walk together, but _now_ it was obvious. Of course they could hardly spend the nights together in their private rooms. Students frequently called on their Heads of House at most awkward times. So the secret couple had to have a hideaway somewhere, most likely in the Forbidden Forrest, or maybe a flat in Hogsmeade…

And it perfectly made sense that Minerva would not allow Severus to go out without her. Being so much older, she had to be careful that he did not meet another woman… or, Gilderoy grinned, a man…

"Are they happy, Tibby?"

The house-elf stared blankly. She had spilled some of the cherry liqueur on her toga-like rags.

"Tibby does not know, sir." She took another sip of her drink. "Tibby thinks wizards are happy when they laugh, like elves… but Professors never laugh. Not even smile."

Gilderoy smiled at the elf and received a big grin in return.

"Tibby's happy… Tibby has good master," she giggled.

"That's good, Tibby, that's excellent…"

He did of course not mean the elf's condition (who would care what those dumb little creatures actually _felt_) but was talking about the information she had just given away. Gilderoy had known it all along. Severus was not happy in this relationship, not happy at all…

Considered from an objective point of view, such a liaison could not be very stable. Oh, sure, on the previous night the two Heads of Houses had seemed happy enough, almost ecstatic to finally be in each other's arms – but that had been after a long day dedicated to romance and love. Not being able to show their affection must have built up some passion on that particular day.

But on the long run such an affair could not last. In point of fact it was quite scandalous. The Potions Master slept with an older woman, with his superior at that… it did explain a lot.

_Of course_ Severus was always nasty to the Gryffindor students, he could not risk them finding out that he was in reality quite close to one certain Gryffindor. And _of course_ that was why Minerva always was so unnaturally fair to all students – she could not show the fact that she had a weak spot when Slytherins were concerned.

Tibby had in the meantime stood up again and swayed dangerously. Her tennis-ball sized eyes were bloodshot.

"Tibby needs get on with work…"

"No, dear Tibby, do stay with me some more – _please_?" Gilderoy smirked at her as though she was an accomplice in a prank. "It is so _delightful_ to hear what you know about the other teachers – did you know that they don't like me?"

"Not like Master? But sir is kind and nice and so famous!"

"Alas, maybe that is why they don't like me… they are jealous. Jealous of my fame and my good looks…"

"Tibby is glad Tibby serves Master!"

The little elf stomped with her right foot and almost lost her balance.

"Not like other elves who has to work in kitchen downstairs, or cleaning owlery, or in dungeons… is always dark there and cold and no friendly wizards like Master."

"That's right, Tibby, I am sure you are right. – Do take another drink, won't you? – Working in the dungeons must be horrible. No one would go there unless he had to."

"Only Master Snape likes dungeons," Tibby pondered while pouring the rest of the crimson liquid into her glass.

"Well, I am sure that Minerva goes to see him there once in a while," Gilderoy said.

"Sir is right, Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress sometimes go see him, before Christmas theys is talking a lot about the attacks and the Duelling Club."

Gilderoy grinned when he remembered the Duelling Club incident. Naturally he had expected Severus to disarm him, but to receive a spell delivered with such force and passion… oh, it had been a rather intimate moment despite all the students around. It was more than likely that Minerva had had something to say about that.

Tibby meanwhile obviously enjoyed Gilderoy's attention. She cudgelled her little brain, trying to think of more things that he might find interesting.

"And Christmas Night very late, Mistress McGonagall is accusing Master Snape of not locking his stores. Says one of her students was hurt because she is having mixed a potion that is not allowed, and that Potions Master must have left his ingredients cupboard unguarded. Mistress is very angry then. Very passionate discussion theys have, until late in night."

"The way they always quarrel one would not think that they… like each other," Gilderoy replied.

"Oh, but Tibby knows," the house-elf said importantly. "Tibby has said before, theys is not enemies. Masters Snape and McGonagall is closer that students think. For long years, theys…"

She gesticulated wildly and fell on the floor again. The rest of the cherry liqueur tinted the rug as well as the rags she wore. With the unconscious house-elf now laying on the floor it looked almost like a crime scene.

To bad Gilderoy's camera was broken. He could have used a picture of that in his next book, _Quarrelling with Quintapeds._ Photographic 'proof' of a house-elf slain by a carnivorous five-legged creature would have added a nicely scary touch to the book.

Oh well, one could not have everything. That very enlightening conversation had made Gilderoy to cheer up after the catastrophe last night. He now _knew_ what exactly the relationship between Severus and Minerva was like.

There was a silver lining, quite a bright one actually. Severus was not entirely happy in his relationship, so Gilderoy had most absolutely _not_ misinterpreted his glances. The Head of Slytherin had only fought Gilderoy's advances on the previous night because he had known that his Gryffindor lover would soon enter the library.

Gilderoy would seduce, nay, _conquer_ that wizard. Actually, Minerva's existence added this certain touch of scandal to Gilderoy's plan… it was so delightful that he almost shuddered despite the hot water. So far, Gilderoy had only ever seduced single men. Snatching a wizard out of somebody else's arms, now that was quite a new adventure.

As if that old Scottish hag would stand a chance against _Gilderoy Lockhart_!

Gilderoy was now such a good mood that he blew a kiss to the snoring house-elf on his bathroom floor. He almost felt sympathetic. The poor creature would have a dreadful headache for the next day. Gilderoy would later take her to an empty classroom and obliviate her there. Better if she did not remember a thing upon waking up.

He relaxed in the hot water and sighed. Everything seemed ridiculously easy now. There was no need to run from Hogwarts. The Brave New Gilderoy would stay, look immaculate, and succeed with his original plan to seduce the Potions Master.

Life was grand. Gilderoy started to wash his hair.


	4. Apple Caramel Cream Twist Delight

**Chapter 4 – Would you care for ****an ****Apple Caramel Cream Twist Delight?**

_**(Severus Snape POV)**_

Severus Snape sat in his dungeon classroom and waited.

It was not like the Headmaster to be late like that. Well, they did not have an appointment and Severus had of course not invited Dumbledore for tea or anything of the like. Maybe the old man would not come at all? But it was unlikely that Dumbledore should not want to talk to Severus. Not after his comment to Goldilocks Lockhart this morning, or the incident in the library last night. Dumbledore always found out about the things happening at Hogwarts. And he was a meddler. The Headmaster would not leave Severus alone.

He had already been waiting for most of the day.

Naturally, he did not literally sit idly in a comfortable chair, waiting for the Headmaster to arrive. No, Severus simply had _anticipated_ that Albus Dumbledore would want a word with him, and so he had not even gotten started with that new batch of Pepper-Up Potion Madam Pomfrey had asked him for. Severus sat at his desk in his beloved cool and dark dungeon and tried to concentrate on marking homework papers.

Having to read second-grade homeworks while waiting for Albus Dumbledore… it was not one of the better Saturdays in Severus's life.

The Potions Master carefully scribbled a 'D' on Harry Potter's essay on the use of copper cauldrons compared to silver ones. Usually it cheered him up to give Potter what the spoiled brat deserved for being the son of his school-time enemy, but today the bright red 'D' next to the boy's name on the essay paper did not work its magic.

It simply was very, _very_ unlike the Headmaster not to come and speak to Severus after an event like this morning's breakfast argument. Severus knew that he had insulted Lockhart, and Dumbledore was certain to interfere. The old wizard might privately agree with Severus about Lockhart being a coward, but he would not allow public arguments among his staff.

Arguments. Severus sneered.

His argument with Goldilocks had not been the only one on that morning. Minerva had also behaved like a three-year-old. It was quite out of character for her to publicly contradict Dumbledore, _and_ then to proceed with an unprovoked attack on Severus. Maybe that was the reason why Dumbledore had not yet shown up to lecture Severus about good manners. The Headmaster also had to give his Deputy Headmistress a stern talking to.

With a sigh Severus returned to his work. His mind was not quite on the task. For some reason all the developments of this morning – not to mention the unexpected events of the previous evening – troubled him more than they ought to.

For Merlin's sake, he was Severus Snape, the most unsociable wizard of Hogwarts! _– and proud of the fact, thank you very much_. Dealing with an unwanted outbreak of Goldilocks's passion for Ex Death Eaters and an unexpected kiss from an acquaintance should not be that difficult. After all, that kiss had been totally meaningless. Minerva was a friend, not a love interest.

Without bothering to read the content the Potions Master marked Hermione Granger's essay 'E'. The little know-it-all would have handed in a perfect homework yet again, so for once he would skip her paper. He just was not in the mood for more Gryffindor ramblings. The next essay was from Pansy Parkinson.

Just where was the Headmaster? It was almost eight o'clock already.

Severus smiled absent-mindedly when he realised that he had a minute ago labelled the Head of Gryffindor a _friend_. Who would have thought that Sinister Severus Snape considered the Gryffindor Lioness a friend – naturally, only in his own and very private thoughts. But it was true. His relationship with his former Transfiguration teacher was a complicated one, but Minerva now was a friend. Possibly the only true friend he had ever had apart from Lily Evans.

There were some, very few people that Severus did feel somewhat close to. A few of his colleagues were… nice. The Potions Master did usually not much care for nice people, but it was hard not to be fond of folks like friendly and witty Pomona Sprout or intelligent Aurora Sinistra.

Naturally, Severus felt a deep affection for Albus Dumbledore, who had basically given him his life back – but the Headmaster was not a friend, he was more like a father figure to Severus. To a lesser extend, similar sentiments applied to old man Flitwick. The ancient little Head of Ravenclaw had from Severus's first teaching day on treated the reformed Death Eater like a regular colleague. In unobtrusive, little ways he had even helped Severus to find his way into being a Hogwarts Professor. To the much younger Slytherin, Filius Flitwick was like an old uncle.

But with Minerva McGonagall, things had been different. Her intelligence and her talent for acerbic remarks – sometimes showing a downright wicked sense of humour – had impressed him even when he was a student. Even though she was much older (and a _Gryffindor_!), Severus knew that they were much alike in some ways. It was not a coincidence that they were the only two teachers that not even the Weasley twins had dared to play pranks on.

Minerva had also welcomed Severus back when he had decided to turn away from Voldemort. Unlike many others, she had never questioned his status as a _reformed_ Death Eater – but it had back then also been plain enough that if Severus wanted her respect again, he would have to earn it. And like in his schooldays, Severus had worked hard for that respect.

Their relationship had slowly changed during those first years as co-workers. Polite and careful conversations about their duties as Heads of competing Houses had changed into highly enjoyable cut-and-thrust arguments. No one else actually dared to talk back when Severus was angry, but Minerva even challenged him with sarcastic comments.

The famous Gryffindor/Slytherin House rivalry had turned into a constant state of war that both 'generals' liked so much that they sometimes tended to exaggerate it a bit. Their weekly chess matches in the staff room now frequently became night-long conversations, going on until the early morning hours with the chess set forgotten on a small table between them. And teasing Sybill Trelawney had unofficially become a favourite pastime for both of them – Severus knew that his acidic remarks usually hit their target, and it was a joy to witness Minerva unleash her cynicism upon the Divination Professor once in a while.

Severus smiled again. Indeed, Minerva McGonagall was a friend – a very unusual friend for a young wizard like himself, but a friend nevertheless.

And incidentally she was a rather good kisser. But that was completely beside the point. Noticing _that _fact was a purely scientific observation. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Severus felt strangely on edge today.

He scanned trough Parkinson's paper and scrawled a few remarks on the sides, but altogether it was a fairly good work. The girl was an arrogant little pure-blood, but not stupid. She would do even better in class once she stopped dreaming of one day becoming Mrs Malfoy. It was so irksome to witness the students display their puppy love, and Lockhart's stupid Valentine's Day theme had only fueled their adolescent emotions.

_Lockhart_. Of course Goldilocks the Defence teacher was the reason why Severus felt like a Kneazle on a hot tin roof. It had, for once, absolutely nothing to do with the Head of Gryffindor.

Severus knew that he had made a mistake earlier that day. Lockhart had been about to leave the school and relieve them all of his unwanted company. If only Severus had kept his mouth shut. It was unbelievable. The Potions Master wanted nothing more than to get rid of that fairy – especially after the library incident – and instead he had involuntarily challenged Goldilocks's pride. The other man would now most likely stay at Hogwarts.

Severus sighed heavily. Just why, _why_ had he not kept silent? He had simply not been himself this morning. Something had been on his mind… but what?

But it did not matter any more. Severus had seen Lockhart earlier when he had discussed the remains of the decorations with Filch, and Goldilocks's again-perfect smile had told Severus that he would have to continue enduring the Defence teacher's presence. At least he knew that Minerva hated the blond wizard-wishing-he-was-a-Veela with equal fervour.

Sybill Trelawney deserved a break, Severus decided, simply because Lockhart was even more annoying _and_ even more fun to mock. Maybe Severus would ask the Headmaster to re-assemble that Duelling Club… the teachers could demonstrate some of the more dangerous spells for the students… he would love to see Minerva duel Goldilocks.

Severus looked down at the papers on his desk and realised he had already moved on to the next homework essay – this one was from Gregory Goyle. No wonder he had not been able to concentrate on that. Absolutely no one ought to have students like that Goyle and his intellectual twin, Vincent Crabbe. Even Neville Longbottom handed in better papers, and that was saying something. Severus pushed all the essays away and got up from his chair. He would start brewing that Pepper-Up Potion instead of marking more papers. Potionwork at least was enjoyable.

He walked into his laboratory and started collecting the ingredients from various shelves and cupboards. Concocting Potions was a task Severus had always enjoyed. It was a subtle art, recognised as an art form only by very few people, and it required a lot of concentration. Any idiot could add a few ingredients to a cauldron of hot water and stir them around – but it was a difficult task to create a Potion that truly had magical properties.

Pepper-Up was an easy Potion to make, but Severus enjoyed the magic of the process nonetheless. One could totally loose track of time when working with Potions. Gently stir in the special chillies that Pomona had grown in her Greenhouse Three, let the mixture simmer for a while, then add the ginger powder and no more than five drops of green dragon blood... take the cauldron from the fire and let the concoction cool down to 37 degrees Celsius before adding the ground cinnamon bark and a pinch of insect chitin…

"Severus?"

The Potions Master almost dropped the jar of dried green beetles he was holding, but he managed not to show his surprise.

"Yes, Headmaster?"

Albus Dumbledore entered the spacious laboratory and leaned against one of the cupboards. He searched the pockets of his robes and finally produced a small plastic bag that looked like something from a Muggle supermarket.

Severus braced himself. Like Trelawney constantly predicting disaster and Filch constantly cursing the students, this was yet another Hogwarts ritual. The Headmaster seemed unable to begin a decent conversation unless he first handed out sticky sweets. And the bad habit seemed to be contagious. Filius shared his beloved squeaking sugar mice with everyone, and even on Minerva's desk Severus had lately seen a tartan biscuit tin – why were most witches and wizards so obsessed with sweets?

"Would you care for a… what do they call it?" – Dumbledore checked the writing on the plastic bag – "for an Apple Caramel Cream Twist Delight?"

He held out the bag for Severus to take one of the revolting bonbons. The Head of Slytherin fought back the urge to offer the Headmaster a dead beetle in return.

"I'd rather not."

"If you are sure…"

Dumbledore pocketed the sweets again and looked at the cauldron in front of Severus.

"I see you are almost done with that Pepper-Up Potion. Excellent, Severus, Poppy will be delighted. We do seem to have needed more of it this winter."

"It needs to simmer for another two hours before I can fill it in bottles."

"I daresay that will be early enough."

Dumbledore stroked his beard and looked around in the dungeon room. Severus wished the Headmaster would finally get to the point.

"I hardly ever come into your laboratory," the old wizard said pleasantly. "You have changed the place quite a bit since Horace last worked here."

"Slughorn was a good teacher, but we have developed rather different techniques in brewing Potions."

Severus frowned. Old Slughorn had been a true Potions Master, but his workplace had always looked messy. The Slytherin predecessor had relied on the house elves to do the cleaning work and had even had them assist him in preparing the ingredients. Severus preferred to do everything himself, on a meticulously clean table.

Couldn't Dumbledore stop pretending this was just a nice chat? It was infuriating. After all, Severus knew what this visit was all about.

"Headmaster… about Lockhart…"

"Ah, yes, that was an excellent idea, Severus. That was some very quick thinking you did this morning. I am truly grateful."

"You are?"

This conversation was not going into the direction Severus had expected. He extinguished the fire under his cauldron and turned to the Headmaster again.

"I am indeed. Personally I think that no amount of begging and sweet-talking could have persuaded Gilderoy to stay after that embarrassing scene last evening. He had to be challenged to remain here at Hogwarts – and you were the best person to do that."

And Dumbledore already knew about the 'embarrassing scene'. Wasn't life wonderful?

"I suppose so," Severus scowled.

He was cursing inwardly. He could have gotten rid of that pansy, if only he had been able to hold his tongue…

"Severus, I do of course realise how very unpleasant it is for you to have him here. Especially after he decided to openly display his… interest in you."

"Headmaster, you have no idea just _how_ unpleasant that man is."

Dumbledore chuckled.

"I mean it, Severus. I appreciate that you put up with Lockhart. We _need_ a Defence Professor."

"So you keep telling me. And, since you mentioned it, may I ask how you learned about that 'display of interest'?"

"Well, Pomona explained what you meant when you called the whole incident a misunderstanding. And then, my dear boy, of course there is the portrait of 'Bartholomew the Bibliophile' in the library."

"Isn't he supposed to be reading constantly if he is a bibliophile?"

"I think it is safe to assume that he does look up from his books if there is anything interesting to witness."

Severus sighed. There was a reason why there were no pictures and especially no portraits in his private quarters. If Bartholomew had watched the Lockhart scene, he would certainly not have returned to his reading during the part where Minerva had been involved.

Just great. By tomorrow morning, the whole school would know that the Head of Slytherin had kissed the Head of Gryffindor on Valentine's Day. If they did not _already_ know it.

Wait a moment, that was not right… she had kissed him, not the other way around. True, it had just been a peck on the cheek, but Minerva had instigated that whole scene.

For some reason this seemed very important.

Severus realised that Dumbledore watched him with that maddening benign smile playing on his lips.

"But this is not what I why I wanted to speak to you, Severus."

Not?

"And I would rather not discuss this incident any more. What do you need of me, Headmaster?"

"I should like you to assist Poppy in the hospital wing. She is treating a house elf."

"I am no expert on house elves. What is wrong with it?"

"The poor thing was found drunk – so inebriated, in fact, that her life was in danger. But Poppy was able to help her, and now her condition is stable. We just believe that the elf might have been hit by some sort of curse as well, and here is where your expertise comes into play."

"Surely you are not telling me that there are curses you could not detect? What about Filius or our esteemed Defence teacher? Isn't that supposed to be his branch of magic?" Severus sneered.

"Filius will of course check her as well, as will I," Dumbledore replied calmly, ignoring the remark about Lockhart. "Severus, just do me the favour and have a look to that elf. Then we can compare what we find out."

"Of course, Headmaster."

"Very good."

Dumbledore stroked his beard again and smiled.

"I will leave you to your work then," he said while walking to the door. "Filius is with the elf now, so you don't need to hurry. Oh, and if you meet Minerva in the hospital wing, don't worry. I have spoken to her and she has… calmed down."

Severus decided not to comment on that. He did not care if Minerva needed to calm down after their kiss. It had been totally meaningless.

Oh, wait… Dumbledore was more likely talking about their argument at breakfast.

"That house elf must be awfully popular if four of us – and Poppy – need to check her for spell damage."

"Minerva was the one who found the elf. The poor thing was in the empty classroom next to the Transfiguration room. In fact, she suggested that I also ask for your opinion."

"Imagine that," Severus replied dryly.

"Oh, don't say that, Severus. You know Minerva is quite fond of you, even if she shows it only on very rare occasions."

Dumbledore beamed at Severus again before he turned around and left the laboratory. Severus heard the Headmaster hum some light and playful tune while he walked away.

The Potions Master was inclined to believe that the Headmaster approved of those 'very rare occasions'. The man was such an annoying old meddler.


	5. Not the Least Bit Likely

_A/N (or rather translator's note): sorry, this chapter has not been properly beta'd. Frank was nagging that he wanted to post it, but it took us forever to finish this chapter and so I've only translated it and did some proofreading myself. Any mistakes left are mine - Percy Weasel_

**Chapter 5**** – Not the Least Bit Likely**

_**(Poppy Pomfrey POV)**_

The school matron adjusted the house-elf's pillows and then checked the little dear's pulse again. She sighed audibly. Poppy Pomfrey had been a nurse for many years, but she had hardly ever seen such a miserable being. When Minerva had brought the house-elf in Poppy had actually thought the little one would die. Alcohol intoxication was bad enough for humans and could very well kill – although few people ever realised that – but with elves it was even more critical.

One of the other elves had identified this poor creature as Tibby. Poppy was almost certain she had never seen her before – there were, of course, hundreds of elves in Hogwarts, but usually Poppy was quite good with remembering faces. But each year some new ones arrived and Poppy only saw them in summer when she vaccinated them against the June Flu, a rather serious disease with elves. Maybe Tibby had started working at Hogwarts when the new school year had begun.

Poor Tibby stirred in her sleep and started snoring loudly. Poppy gently wiped her forehead with a soft cloth and then sat down again. She would keep watch during the rest of the night, but now she knew her patient had a chance to live.

Minerva still stood on the other side of the bed, motionless like a statue. Poppy smiled at her friend.

"Do at least sit down, Minerva. There is nothing you can do right now."

"Alright," Minerva sighed.

She flicked her wand and created a plain wooden chair. Then the Head of Gryffindor sat down. She studied the elf for maybe the hundredth time.

"You brought her in just in time," Poppy said. "Some minutes later it might have been too late, but I think she will be fine. It was a good thing she started throwing up like that, that way she got most of the poison out of her system."

"Poison?"

"Alcohol is poison for elves. Strictly speaking, it is poison for us, too – but for elves it is ten times more dangerous."

"I just don't understand why she drank it," Minerva pondered. "They_know_ they cannot take alcohol. I remember Tibby, I interviewed her when she started working here last August. She seemed sensible and smart."

Poppy pointed to the small heap of rags on a table nearby – Tibby's 'clothes'. The fabric was still stained with the cherry liqueur that Tibby had spilled and thrown up.

"Cherry. Sweet liqueur. An elf needs only the tiniest amount of alcohol and he – or she – will be unable to judge the situation properly. She probably intended not to drink very much, but then the effect of the alcohol in combination with the sweet taste made her go on and on."

"But why did she start in the first place?"

Poppy shrugged. She could not answer that one, but Minerva probably had not expected her to respond anyway. The Transfiguration teacher seemed lost in thought.

Poppy would have smiled if the situation had not been that sad. Her friend Minerva had always been passionate about house-elves, even in their school days she had constantly talked about elf rights and how the poor creatures were extorted. She had even tried to free elves and had founded a student society to campaign for better living and working conditions for the Hogwarts house-elves. It had taken long years before Minerva had understood that most elves actually _preferred_ to be servants.

"Remember Elf?" Poppy asked.

"E.L.F.," Minerva corrected automatically. "Of course I do. I also remember that you were the only one who ever joined."

"I had to. You would not have let me copy your Transfiguration homework otherwise. What was the acronym for again?"

"Elf Liberation Fraternity. Not a very catchy name, I have to admit. I hope that the next person campaigning for elf rights will think of something better."

Both witches fell silent again. Tibby snored on her small bed between them. Poppy knew that she would not be able to make Minerva leave, and in truth she did not mind the company. Sitting at a sick person's bed all night was not a pleasant task.

Some time later, someone knocked on the door to the hospital wing.

"It's open, come in," Poppy called. She would not wake that elf even if she shouted at the top of her lungs.

The door was opened and Severus Snape came in. He did not say a word while he approached. Then, suddenly, he stopped a few feet away from them.

"It's cherry," Minerva said. "Cherry liqueur. Apparently that is what she drank."

It took Poppy a few seconds to understand what was going on. Severus had stopped when he had seen Tibby's rags covered with the dark red stains. Of course, this young wizard had seen many innocent creatures being tortured and killed… blood-like stains would alarm him.

Poppy was impressed. Severus was still standing behind Minerva, and she had not turned around when he had opened the door. She had recognised his gait _and_ immediately guessed what he would think.

"Cherry? How disgusting," Severus replied and came closer to Tibby's bed. He nodded a greeting to the school matron.

"How is she?" he asked Poppy.

Not for the first time Poppy wondered if the Heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin had _ever_ bothered to exchange niceties or something like a polite greeting when they met.

"She will live. It will take a while until her liver can manage that amount of toxin – by the way, I used your Blood Cleansing Potion, it's very good – and she will of course have a horrible hang-over, but she will be alright."

"What about Dumbledore's other suspicion? That she also was cursed?"

"Albus was here and checked her," Minerva answered, "and Filius did the same about an hour ago, and Poppy and I also suspect something. But of course we are no experts in the field of curses and jinxes."

Poppy suppressed a smile. _She_ was not expert on curses, which was the reason why she had not become a healer instead of a nurse. Minerva on the other hand was one of the most gifted and powerful witches of their generation, and she had fought in the past war against Lord Voldemort. Minerva was an expert on curses, a fact all three of them were aware of.

"And you expect me to find something new?" Severus asked.

He bent over Tibby and studied the little elf closely.

"Not exactly," Minerva replied. "What I expect is that all five of us will come to the same conclusion. But it is better if we study her separately in order to avoid influencing each other's opinions."

Poppy noticed that Minerva still did not look at Severus. They had most likely not spoken since their argument this morning. At least the feuding Heads of Houses were able to stop insulting each other when serious developments, like Tibby's fate, demanded their attention.

Minerva stood up and vanished her chair, then she stepped away from Tibby's bed to make more room for Severus. He drew his wand and performed a light sleeping charm on the house-elf.

"Some of my spells will be a bit uncomfortable," he explained when Poppy looked at him questioningly. "I would not want for her to wake up during the process."

Minerva nodded in the background.

Poppy sighed. Neither Filius and Dumbledore nor Minerva and Poppy had used that precaution – which could only mean that Severus was going to use other spells than they had.

Other spells that would be somewhat uncomfortable – that meant spells he had possibly developed himself, or learned when with… You-Know-Who. Poppy did not like the idea that Severus would employ Dark (or at least Darkish) Magic in her treatment room, but Minerva had obviously just given him permission.

But Poppy soon realised that she need not have worried. Severus performed some very complex spells, a few of which she did not recognise because he cast them non-verbally, but Tibby continued to sleep soundly. Whatever Severus was doing, he was at least doing it carefully.

After some minutes, the Slytherin Head pocketed his wand. He stepped away from the bed and again studied Tibby's face for a few seconds.

"What is her name?"

"Tibby," Poppy replied.

"Tibby… of course. I knew I had seen her before. It figures."

"What figures?" Minerva asked sharply.

"She was not cursed, but someone used a spell on her. I tried to use some Legilimency. Of course right now everything is blurred because she is asleep and dreaming, and there is the alcohol effect but – it appears that she has no recollections of what happened."

"That does happen when people drink," Poppy argued.

She had only been able to establish that someone had used magic – but fortunately no Dark Arts – on Tibby. Filius had said the same. Minerva and the Headmaster had also claimed that Tibby might have lost some of her memories.

"This is different. If she could just not remember some things because of too much alcohol, the memories would still be there, but twisted and unrecognisable. No, this is as though her memories were erased."

"Obliviated," Minerva said.

"And guess who is an expert on Memory Charms," Severus replied. "The one wizard she works for."

"Tibby works for Lockhart?"

"That is where I remember seeing her. Do you recall when Mrs Norris was found and we examined her in Lockhart's office? What did you see in that room?"

Minerva smiled grimly.

"About two dozen pictures of Lockhart. Some still wearing their hair rollers or facial masks."

"And a house-elf dusting their frames, who disapparated immediately when we entered. This house-elf."

"I did not see her."

"Of course, you were busy with your charming students."

Poppy coughed audibly. She would not have these two argue here and now. Minerva met her gaze and nodded almost unnoticeably.

"We cannot prove it was Lockhart who did this to her – by the way I agree that she was obliviated. So does Albus."

Severus sighed.

"I know. It's this thing about Memory Charms… those who have witnessed Lockhart performing them cannot remember it any more. We only know he must be an expert because common sense tells us."

Poppy coughed again, but the other two ignored her. The question of Lockhart's status as hero wizard or fraud had been the subject of many a discussion among staff members.

Sybill Trelawney was all for believing every word the man said or wrote (although she still did not like him). Some of the other teachers had at first been happy that a celebrity like Gilderoy Lockhart would come to work with them, and had then changed their minds – Filius Flitwick was a good example here.

Poppy still was undecided – true, the man was so vain that it was almost unbearable to talk to him, but still there had to be something to his tales. _No one_ could write so many books about great deeds without the least bit of magical talent, could they? And Poppy had read his books. Even if Lockhart had probably exaggerated some stories, that wizard was a genius against Dark Creatures. One could _learn_ from those books. Just because Lockhart was vain it was not proven that he was wicked.

"But why would Gilderoy obliviate Tibby?" Poppy wondered, "_Why_? What could she have witnessed? And there still is the question why she drank that liqueur before."

Poppy checked Tibby's vital signs again and then sat down on her chair, just in time to see Minerva throw a meaningful look at Severus. The younger wizard shrugged irritably.

Quite interesting. Nothing of this made any sense at all, but obviously Minerva had a theory Severus did not entirely agree with.

Poppy tried to muster the two Heads of Houses nonchalantly. Both of them watched the sleeping elf. Poppy suspected that they only looked at Tibby to avoid looking at each other. Really, if the situation had not been that sad she would so have laughed at them. It was quite comical how they were torn between being awkwardly polite and openly aggressive.

Poppy made a mental note to go speak to the portrait of Bartholomew. She greatly envied Pomona and Filius for witnessing _that_ event.

"No house-elf would ever steal food," Minerva said after a few minutes.

"Which means someone must have _given_ it to her," Severus concluded.

"So we know – or suspect – that Lockhart gave Tibby something to make her drunk and then erased her memories of that event. This is not about something that she witnessed accidentally."

It was just not fair how they immediately assumed that Lockhart had purposely poisoned Tibby just because Tibby worked for him.

"Lockhart would not have cherry liqueur," Poppy spoke up. "Everybody knows he prefers Ogden's Old Firewhiskey."

She knew she had made a mistake even before two pairs of black eyes focussed on her.

"Been reading _Magical Me_, have we?" Severus said mockingly.

"He gave me a copy for Christmas!" the school nurse said hotly. "I just opened it randomly and pretended to read a couple of pages to be polite!"

That was close enough to the truth. Lockhart had given them all signed copies of his autobiography for Christmas, but Poppy had already read that book months ago. (She had, in fact, read the whole book in one night, but she was darned if she was going to admit that now.)

"And how would _you_ know that this vital little piece of information is supplied in_Magical Me_?" Minerva innocently asked Severus.

"I do not know," the Potions Master snapped. "I only saw a copy of in on Poppy's desk in the other room and guessed."

"It's in _Weekend with a Werewolf_," Poppy said quickly. She would not have them argue in a room with a sick person.

Another mistake. There even was something like a _smile_ on Severus's face.

"I cannot believe you read his books," Minerva muttered.

"In the past, alright? A long time ago. And can we get back to the topic, please?" Poppy replied furiously. "Tibby, you know… why he gave her cherry liqueur and all that?"

"Unless Tibby does recover from her Memory Charm – which is unlikely – I do not think we will find out. She might have seen something that Lockhart would want her to forget… but that would not explain the alcohol. Lockhart must have given it to her on purpose."

"But why? Why would he want to poison his personal house-elf?"

"Who knows," Minerva said, "maybe just for the fun of it. Some people are like that with house-elves."

Severus shook his head.

"No," he contemplated slowly. "No, this man is an irksome fool but he is not… evil. I don't think that is his idea of fun."

They fell silent again. Poppy checked Tibby's blood pressure and pulse once more and then leaned back in her comfortable chair. It was going to be a long night.

Minerva again conjured up her chair and sat down. Poppy knew she would stay until the poor elf woke up from her stupor. Surprisingly enough, Severus also showed no intention of leaving. He leaned against the wall and stared out of the window.

The time passed slowly. It was almost eleven o'clock, and Poppy extinguished some of the candles. Hopefully Tibby would just sleep through the night, without any nightmares.

Minerva sat on the other side of the bed, not moving at all. Her gaze was fixed on Tibby's small face. Severus stood a few feet away from her, now almost hidden in the shadows. Poppy watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering why he was still here – not that she minded his company, it was just unusual that he would linger after performing his task for Dumbledore. But then again, maybe the young Slytherin expected the Headmaster to come back to the hospital wing, and wanted to report to him right there at Tibby's bed.

It took Poppy a while to realise that Severus had stopped looking out of the window. Instead, he now was watching Minerva. He looked as though he was pondering some important question. The Head of Gryffindor had not noticed; she still looked at Tibby.

Interesting. Quite interesting.

Poppy decided to employ a little trick. She yawned audibly and stretched. Minerva immediately looked up and smiled at her friend.

"Tired?"

"Very. Almost everyone seems to have caught that flu going around… I just did not sleep very much in the last couple of weeks," Poppy complained.

"And now you've got a house-elf to watch over. You know, if you would like to sleep, I'd be happy to sit with Tibby for you."

"No, thank you, Minerva. That is very nice of you, but it is my task to stay here with her. But if you would like to stay, that is alright with me. You could wake me if I should doze off."

"Of course."

This was not the first night they spent together in this hospital wing, although the first one they spent here because of a house-elf instead of a student. Some minutes later, Poppy closed her eyes and pretended to fall asleep. As she had expected, Minerva did not 'wake' her.

And as she had expected, it did not take long for the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor to commence talking once they were 'alone'.

"There is one explanation I can think of," Minerva said in a hushed voice.

"That he used Tibby as a source of information," Severus replied at once.

"It is the only reason that makes any sense at all. She might have known something he was interested in, so Lockhart made her drunk to retrieve the information and obliviated her in the end; to make sure she would not remember the interrogation."

"Another story for his next book."

"Now that I don't think. Tibby used to work for an elderly witch in Bath until she died. No material for heroic stories there."

"But what else could he have had in mind?"

Minerva paused for a moment. Poppy tried to breathe deeply, almost snoring a little. Maybe she ought to drool a little in order to make this act more believable?

"Isn't that obvious? He wanted to learn something about you."

Severus snorted in disgust.

"It perfectly makes sense," Minerva went on. "You know how vain Lockhart is. He cannot admit when he is wrong, but last night he found out…"

She cleared her throat and Poppy could basically hear the Head of Gryffindor blush.

"Last night, Lockhart found out that I am not interested in him, or any other man. And that is it."

"_And_ he did say he could not quite believe it. Come on, Severus, a relationship between us is not the least bit likely. The shock of the moment drove him away, but afterwards he would have wanted to find out if it was true. What easier way is there than questioning a house-elf? They know everything going on at Hogwarts."

"I don't think this whole matter would be that important to Goldilocks."

"Severus, you _were_ present last night, were you not?" Minerva said sarcastically. "That man was literally about to rip you clothes off."

"He was rather… enthusiastic," Severus admitted.

Poppy could easily imagine the look of disgust on his face, and the small smile on Minerva's. She snored loudly to mask her suppressed laughter.

Another minute passed. Poppy heard Minerva move and do something with Tibby's blankets. Severus stepped closer to the bed again. There was an uncomfortable silence once again, but still the Head of Slytherin made no move to leave the room. Poppy wondered if she ought to 'wake up' again. Her chair was not as comfortable as she had thought at first.

"I must apologise for what I said this morning," Minerva mumbled after a while.

"Likewise," Severus answered curtly.

Poppy had to suppress another smile. Both of her colleagues were no experts in the field of offering apologies, but it was obvious that hearing those words had been much needed by both parties.

Even while pretending to be asleep the school matron could sense that now both of them felt better – although none of them would ever admit that particular fact. Maybe it was worth to 'sleep' and listen some more, even if her back was killing her by now.

"So now what do we do?" Minerva asked.

"About what?"

"About Tibby, Lockhart… everything."

"I don't think there is much we can do. Find Tibby another job in Hogwarts, and assign a more reliable elf to Lockhart – there must be some who would not fall for his so-called charm. And watch Goldilocks closely to find out what he is up to. I suppose that is all the Headmaster will want us to do."

"We know what Lockhart is up to. He did make his meaning quite plain."

"No need to remind me," Severus said darkly. "But I do not suppose he will try again."

"Who knows," Minerva said, teasing him gently.

"I would advise him not to."

"But now that he has found out that we just… played a prank last night, he knows that you are not spoken for."

'Played a prank.' Poppy once more snored loudly to conceal the fact that she had almost laughed out loud.

"We do not know what he knows. We only suspect," Severus replied stoically.

"We know. Lockhart is not entirely stupid. Common sense alone will tell him we are not an item."

"Of course, you are right. 'Not the least bit likely', I believe you labelled this liaison a few minutes ago."

"Exactly."

"Which naturally means that we do not have to pretend anything and can go on hating each other with the House-required fervour."

Minerva actually laughed softly.

"Isn't it good to talk openly about such matters?" she said dryly. "I should hate it if we neglected our duties in the eternal struggle of Gryffindor against Slytherin."

Severus made a grunting noise, something between a laugh and a contemptuous snort. Poppy did not need to open her eyes to imagine the look on his face – a smile hidden behind a sneer, only to be recognised by that certain spark of amusement in his eyes.

Come to think of it, Severus did look like that quite often when arguing with the Head of Gryffindor. Poppy stirred in her chair, trying desperately to shift into a more comfortable position. She immediately regretted the movement - although her eyes still were closed, she sensed that the other two had once more become aware of her presence.

"Are you going to stay here all night?" Severus asked.

"Most likely. I want to see how Tibby feels when she wakes up, but I think she might sleep for a few more hours."

"Then I will go and tell the Headmaster that we think she was obliviated. Do ask Poppy about that Blood Cleansing Potion when she wakes up – I had my seventh-years concoct it last week and two of them actually made some good enough for use, so if she needs some more…"

"I will tell her. Good night."

"Good night, Minerva."

Severus swept out of the room. Poppy chose the moment of commotion to 'wake up' when she heard him close the door. She stretched her sore back and yawned.

"Oh, I must have dozed off… you should have woken me, Minerva…"

"I thought I'd let you sleep for a while, I am sure you needed to rest."

"Where is Severus?"

"He went to speak with Albus about our theories. And he asks if you need more of that Blood Cleansing Potion."

"I don't think so. But it never hurts to have some in stock. I will speak to him about it tomorrow."

Minerva nodded. Once more she watched Tibby's face, but looked as though her thoughts were on some entirely different matter.

"So did I miss anything?" Poppy asked her friend. "Any more theories about Lockhart and Tibby and everything else?"

"No, not really. We just discussed… the argument we had this morning. Sometimes I think we do take this Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry too far. The students already act as though this was a war."

"Don't worry, they will grow out of it," Poppy said.

And their teachers might grow out of it, too, she thought. They already are closer friends than they would ever admit. And only five minutes ago, they were positively flirting. They apologised for what they_said_ this morning… but not for what they _did_ last night.


	6. London Calling

_A/N: A big, big _Thank You!_ to Ladybug21 for pointing out some amazing fanart to me. I thought I'd share it with you all. The point is, I usually don't care the least bit for fanart, but Ladybug21 told me about this cartoon that __**exactly**__ matches the way I portrait Snape and McGonagall in my silly fics. And she was right._

_So if you want some additional fun, go and check out the Harry Potter Fan Art site of accio brain! (Just enter 'accio brain' in Google, you'll find it.) Go to 'silly art', to the 2004 section, and search for 'McGonagall and Snape heart their houses'. I LOVE this cartoon._

_And while you're at it, go back to 'general art', and, again in the 2004 pictures, there is one called 'cos – Gilderoy Lockhart'. It's the pre-duel moment... simply lovely._

_Thanks, Bug!_

_Frank_

_And folk, sorry – this is another chapter that has been proofread by one person only._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Chapter 6 – London Calling**

**(Charity Burbage POV)**

Charity Burbage took a sip of her steaming hot tea and then leaned back in her chair. She was glad that she had chosen this seat nearest to the fireplace. The warmth of the flames was almost scorching her back, but she relished not feeling cold just for once. She had – so far – not caught that flu going around, but now she felt as though she was coming down with a nasty head cold.

The professor for Muggle Studies wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck and looked around in the staff room. One by one, the teachers had come in – by now only Dumbledore and Lockhart were missing. Severus Snape and Hagrid were discussing something by the window, and old Filius Flitwick was charming several pillows onto his chair. Charity sneezed heartily while Pomona Sprout sat down opposite her, chatting amiably with Minerva McGonagall.

"Bless you," Pomona said sympathetically, "have you caught that flu bug now?"

"I hope not," Charity mumbled behind her handkerchief. "I've kept to a strict diet of vitamin pills and Pepper-Up Potion all day. I will _not_ become ill."

"Do come to the greenhouses with me after the staff meeting," Pomona replied. "I'll give you some fresh peppermint for tea; that ought to help a bit."

The plump little witch turned to Minerva again and they continued discussing an article they had read in the _Daily Prophet_. Charity looked around again. Lockhart had by now arrived and sat down, which prompted Severus to choose a seat as far away from him as possible. He nodded a curt greeting to Minerva and Pomona and then sat back with his arms crossed, sulking as usual. Charity grinned. Three weeks after Valentine's Day, they all still had not quite recovered from _those_ events.

Actually those past three weeks had been rather pleasant. Lockhart – or Goldilocks, as now everyone privately called him – had been unusually friendly to all teachers. He had even gone so far as to compliment some of them on their talents. (Of course no one but Sybill had taken that seriously.) It was only by listening to one conversation between Goldilocks and Sybill that Charity had found out why the man suddenly was so eager to make friends with some of the teachers. He was obviously trying to find out as much as possible about a certain Potions Master.

But Goldilocks was not the only one who had behaved unusually nice during the past weeks. The two Heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin had apparently decided on some kind of armistice. Except for their major argument on the morning of February 15, no one had heard them quarrel for quite some time now. In fact, their conversations during staff meetings and mealtimes had been almost friendly, though oddly polite and formal.

Charity sneezed again and re-emerged from behind her handkerchief just in time to see Dumbledore enter the room and sit down on his usual throne-like chair. The Headmaster smiled good-naturedly and cleared his throat.

"Good evening, everyone… is everybody here? – Excellent. I must apologise for being late; I just received an owl from the Minister – but I will tell you about that in a minute. Let us commence with the staff meeting for now."

Dumbledore conjured up a large plate and filled it with Muggle sweets from a bright plastic bag. As expected, Filius's face lit up with a smile, Minerva raised her eyebrows as though Dumbledore had done something indecent, Pomona grinned and mumbled about her efforts to keep to a diet, Severus ignored the plate, Aurora Sinistra declined politely and Hagrid clumsily reached for one of the sticky sweets. Charity smiled at the gamekeeper and picked one of the bonbons for herself – the yellow wrapping did imply lemon, and she was going to take all the Vitamin C she could get.

The meeting went by as every one of their bi-weekly Friday staff meetings. Goldilocks boasted about the wonderful things he was allegedly teaching his students, the Heads of Houses reported whether there had been any unusual events, Rolanda Hooch declared that she needed help de-icing the Quidditch goal-posts and Poppy reported that still quite a few students were ill. Charity nodded darkly. She felt as though she was developing a fever.

"Very good," Dumbledore declared in the end. Severus had just explained that he had taken the liberty to order more ingredients for medical potions from the Diagon Alley apothecary.

The meeting seemed about to break up. Filius was throwing longing looks in the direction of his favourite armchair, where he would soon hide behind the weekend edition of the _Daily Prophet_. Rolanda had already started leafing through her copy of _Which Broomstick?_, and Charity saw that Minerva's chess set was waiting for her and Severus on the small table by the window.

"There is only one small matter left to discuss," Dumbledore continued. "I have contacted a friend of mine about the Chamber of Secrets."

"But Headmaster, there was no need for this any more," Goldilocks immediately interrupted. "The attacks have stopped _weeks_ ago – as I have already explained several times I think the monster finally sensed that there is someone here who could easily take on it, your's truly of course, a-ha ha…"

The Defence teacher flashed his bright smile once again in the direction of Severus, who ignored him completely. Dumbledore still smiled, but continued to speak in a slightly raised voice.

"Of course, Gilderoy, and aren't we glad that your presence has saved us so much trouble. But I intended to investigate the matter some more. This friend of mine is an expert on the history of myths and legends. I have asked him to collect all material about this particular Hogwarts legend."

"Good idea, Dumbledore," Minerva said briskly. "May I ask who this wizard is? I was not aware there was someone in Britain who studies the truth behind such – myths."

"Ah, that would be because he his no wizard, though he is of course aware of our world. The dear man is a Squib. He usually goes by the name of Martin Miggs."

Dumbledore leaned back and smiled a little while the others exchanged confused looks. The way the old wizard had spoken the name implied that they ought to know it. It was a rather typical move of the Headmaster – hinting that the man was a celebrity, but of course he was (or acted) to modest to actually point out the fact that he was friends with such a _famous_ person…

"The name does sound familiar," Septima Vector muttered.

"I have read it somewhere," Pomona agreed with her. "Though I cannot think of where or when. And that man is a historian, or rather a collector of stories?"

Stories… the word triggered Charity's memories. Stories did not have to be _written_, after all.

"Of course!" she exclaimed, "I had no idea Martin Miggs was _real_."

"Excellent, my dear Charity," the Headmaster beamed. "You would know the name, of course."

"What are ye talkin' about?" Hagrid asked.

"_The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_," Charity explained excitedly. Moments when her expertise was needed were rare.

"The comics! You must have seen them, half of our younger students read them. They are really neat, too. The protagonist is a Muggle who constantly encounters things from our world, but when he tells his friends about them they naturally think he is mad…"

"Of course," Pomona laughed. "That's where I read the name. I confiscated a copy from the Weasley twins a couple of weeks ago, they were reading it in class. Said I could not take it from them because it belonged to their brother Ronald."

"Well, that wasn't right of them, but the comics are really good," Charity said, now warming to her subject.

"They always end with Martin going back to his Muggle friends and doing some very Muggle things with them – like, you know, riding the tube or going to see a film in a cinema. It's a way of subtly educating our children about the Muggle world. We often discuss about them in my classes. I just failed to connect the comic Martin with a real person."

"Well, I never heard of them," Minerva said, sounding slightly astonished about the fact.

"That's because no student would ever dare to read comics in your classes," Pomona replied. "And so this Miggs guy is real?"

"Indeed," the Headmaster said. "His name originally was Martin Miggleton, but he changed it when he decided he would rather live in the Muggle world. He lives in Ireland, but he has come to London this weekend and I intended to meet him."

"But?"

"But regrettably dear Cornelius Fudge has sent me this express owl and asked me to join a meeting on Saturday night – which also happens to be the opening night of the art show where I was going to meet Martin. The timing is most unfortunate, but I cannot decline to see the Minister. I will have to ask somebody else to meet Martin in my place."

Naturally, everyone immediately focussed on Minerva. Being Dumbledore's Deputy usually meant that she took over such tasks without any question. But, Charity remembered, Minerva was not entirely comfortable around Muggles. Having grown up in a pure-blood Scottish wizard clan had not prepared her for the London lifestyle of the early 90's.

The Scottish witch shrugged with pretended nonchalance, but her lips formed a thin line.

"I suppose I could go, if someone will agree to keep an eye on my Gryffindors. You know it's a Hogsmeade weekend, and on evenings after a Saturday spent at Zonko's the students tend to be a bit… difficult," she said disapprovingly.

A small smile appeared on Severus's face. No doubt he would love the opportunity to take dozens of points from Gryffindor. Apparently Pomona Sprout had seen his expression, too, because she quickly declared that she would not mind watching two Houses for an evening.

"Very good, then this is settled," Dumbledore beamed. "Minerva, I was going to ask you anyway. Martin is a bit shy – some might call him paranoid – and he would insist that I sent someone he knows to be a close friend of mine. A member of the former Order of the Phoenix is perfect."

"Just tell me where and when to meet this Mr Miggs."

"In a very small, private gallery in Lambeth. I will give you the exact address –"

Dumbledore searched his pockets and finally produced a small invitation card.

"Here. This is the invitation to the exhibition, and the adress of the gallery is on the back. You will need to show this card to enter. It should be easy to find. I suggest you floo from my office to the Leaky Cauldron and then go on by bus or underground."

Minerva's expression remained stoical while she pocketed the card without even looking at it. The prospect of having to travel via Muggle public transportation did obviously not make her too happy.

"My dear, I hate to inflict this task on you," Dumbledore went on. "I am afraid this all will be very boring for you. May I suggest that you take one of the other teachers along to keep you company?"

Charity had to admit the man was good at this. It was an excellent idea if the Deputy Headmistress took someone else along; someone who did not feel that much out of place in the Muggle world. Martin Miggs could present his findings to someone he trusted, and Minerva would not have to face the London underground all alone.

The Deputy Headmistress nodded slowly. Charity looked around in the staff room. Not all of them were quite up to the task of acting like Muggles.

Hagrid was too big and Flitwick too small to go unnoticed in the Muggle world. Old man Kettleburn with his missing limbs and shabby dress was not the best choice either. Pomona, Septima and Aurora were pure-bloods like Minerva. Sybill Trelawney would obviously not do either, even though her many scarves and necklaces made her look like a Muggle dressed-up like a cheap fortune-teller.

Rolanda with her grey hair and yellow eyes would draw much attention to herself; and it was out of the question that Minerva would allow Goldilocks to accompany her. Poppy and Bathsheba also looked as though they had 'witch' tatooed on their foreheads. Severus Snape… now that was a choice. He was a half-blood, had grown up with Muggles and still had his house in a Muggle town.

Apparently the Potions Master had come to a similar conclusion. He shot a vindictive glare in the direction of the smiling Headmaster.

"Well, I would love to go!" Goldilocks declared in the meantime. "I have to go to Diagon Alley anyway, another session of signing my books at 'Florish & Blotts', and in the evening I could show Minerva around. All that travelling to far places has made me somewhat of an expert on Muggles."

"Actually," Dumbledore smiled (while Minerva had closed her eyes as though silently praying), "I was thinking of someone else. We do have a true expert on Muggles here. Charity, would you like to go to London tomorrow?"

Minerva opened her eyes again and actually smiled at Charity. The Muggle Studies Professor sat dumbfounded. Of course she was the obvious choice, but she had not even thought of that possibility. Her expertise was always looked down on by everyone else. It was rather like being the music teacher in a Muggle school who hardly ever was considered a _real_ teacher by the other staff members.

"Of course," she stammered. "Yes, I'd love to go to London. A Muggle art show sounds like great fun, and I could then give my students a lesson on contemporary Muggle arts."

"I would be grateful if you came along," Minerva said – somewhat stiffly, but Charity knew that she meant it. They were not close friends, but Charity liked the Transfiguration teacher well enough to look forward to an evening with her.

"Very well. Then have a pleasant evening, everyone," Dumbledore said and stood up from his chair.

With the usual noise and chatter, one by one the teachers stood up and collected their papers. Filius Flitwick darted to his favorite armchair with surprising speed and sat down. Charity remained in her seat for another moment and blew her nose. She felt awful.

Pomona looked at Charity questioningly.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'll be fine. That tea of your's sounds like a good idea, and then I will retire early."

"You stay here by the warm fire," Pomona decided. "I'll fetch you the peppermint and whatever else I can think of from my greenhouses. Wouldn't want you to go outside in that snowstorm."

Without waiting for Charity to answer, she turned around and left the room together with most of the other teachers. Charity sneezed again. She moved her chair even closer to the fire, hoping she would not disturb Filius with his precious evening newspaper.

Severus had already begun to set up the chess pieces for his and Minerva's traditional Friday evening match. Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn started a discussion about the unicorns of the Forbidden Forest, something about their need for additional winter food. Minerva went to Charity and handed her the white invitation card.

"It says it's an exhibition of photographs by some famous sport reporter, all taken at the Olympic Winter Games this year. Jaques DeNeuve – have you heard of him?"

"No," Charity replied. "The name sounds French, and the Games were in Albertville – probably he's some local celebrity there."

"I suppose we will find out tomorrow. It's good of you to come along, Charity. It's been years since I was forced to use the London underground."

Minerva smiled again, very briefly, but Charity understood that the Deputy Headmistress was truly glad that she would not have to go alone. Goldilocks, standing behind her, still looked a bit taken aback that both the Headmaster and his Deputy would prefer Charity's knowledge over his alleged Muggle-expertise.

"Of course," he said haughtily, "now that I think of it, it might be better if you two went together."

Minerva raised her eyebrow, but ignored the Defence teacher otherwise. Charity sighed and looked at him.

"And why's that?" she mumbled despite herself. By now even speaking felt painful in her throat. Merlin, she _was_ coming down with that cold.

"Well, just think how it would look to Muggles if I accompanied Minerva to such an event. If she shows up with a male escort, people would expect him to be her partner. And with that difference in years between us – it'd be ridiculous! Of course our dear Gryffindor Head looks _splendid_ for her age –" Goldilocks bowed to Minerva with mock gallantry, "but really no one could expect us to go to an official event together without drawing too much attention to us. No one would take a relationship with that much of an age difference seriously."

Goldilocks bowed again and turned around quickly. He left the room with his robes – light blue, with a violet cape – billowing behind him.

"Some day," Severus said though clenched teeth, "I will..."

Charity saw that the Head of Slytherin had stood up and drawn his wand, obviously longing to use it. Although he had not finished his sentence, Charity could almost hear his thoughts concerning torture and slow, painful deaths.

Minerva shook her head.

"Not if I murder him first."

"I do wonder what he is playing at now," Severus muttered, settling down again.

Minerva chose the seat opposite his.

"Don't be ridiculous. _You_ know exactly what he's playing at – pointing out that you are just wasting your precious time by spending it with an old hag when you could have someone so much younger, and blonder, and altogether more gorgeous…"

Her nostrils flared while she bent over the chessboard and made the first move.

"I thought we had agreed that Goldilocks knows we are not in any way involved?"

"Apparently he does _not_ know. Merlin knows why, I think it's fairly obvious."

"Well…" Charity mumbled.

Both the Gryffindor and the Slytherin focused on her immediately. Charity hid behind her handkerchief (she did not even have to pretend needing it).

"What do you mean, 'well'?" Severus asked in a dangerously low voice.

"It's just that you two have been unnaturally – _unusually_, I mean – friendly to each other lately. No verbal skirmishes, no discussions about Quidditch… one might actually get the impression that you somewhat like each other."

"That is absurd," Severus stated.

"Quite impossible," Minerva agreed.

"Only if one is as thick as Goldilocks, of course," Charity hurriedly added.

"Now that makes some sense," Minerva said tersely.

She redirected her glance to the chessboard and frowned. After about a minute of hard thinking, she made the next, tentative move.

"Oh, stop it, will you?!" Filius Flitwick suddenly exploded.

"Excuse me?"

Minerva sounded about as astonished as Charity was. The Head of Ravenclaw never lost his nerve, but right now he did appear genuinely annoyed – and maybe a bit amused – about something.

"All that absurd-impossible-not-liking-each-other talk," Filius explained exasperatedly. "Look, we all know you are Heads of rivaling Houses. But that does not mean that you have to be ashamed of being friendly once in a while."

"We are not _friendly_," Severus said icily.

"Then what do you call this?" Filius pointed to the chessboard on the small table between them.

Charity had no idea what he meant, but it seemed that she was not the only one. Severus and Minerva exchanged a confused look.

"It would appear to be a set of chess," the Potions Master finally said.

Filius rolled his eyes.

"For the third time in a row," he huffed, "you don't play properly. Your chess matches used to be _interesting_ to watch. Why else would I spend every Friday night in this staff room when my own quarters are more comfortable? But recently, both of you have taken to playing _defensively_. I don't care if this is an effort to be nicer or if you are afraid to attack each other. The fact remains that you are friendlier than you used to be."

"Well, I am sorry I have ceased to be a source of entertainment," Severus said dryly. "Minerva, if you would excuse me – I don't much feel like playing any more."

"Neither do I. Honestly, one cannot even play chess any more without being watched."

Filius hid behind his newspaper again while Severus all but stormed out of the room. Minerva slowly put her chess pieces back into their box. Finally she picked up a copy of _Transfiguration Today_ and opened it at random, but Charity doubted that she really concentrated on her reading.

Charity was glad when Pomona finally arrived with a bag full of aromatic herbs – at least she suspected that they were aromatic, her nose now was by now so stuffed that she could not smell a thing. She thanked Pomona, took the bag of leaves and went to her own rooms.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Charity woke up early in the next morning, feeling _awful_. Her head hurt as though she had a bad hang-over, her nose still was swollen and as a result she had a dry mouth and sore throat. And she had definitely developed a fever during the night. Time for more Pepper-Up Potion.

Fortunately, she had fetched a large bottle of it from the hospital wing. Charity forced herself to get out of bed and walked to the bathroom on wobbly legs. There was that bottle, and it was… empty. Darn. She sneezed heartily and decided to take a hot shower.

Half an hour later, Charity slowly made her way to the hospital wing. Poppy Pomfrey opened her door reluctantly, wearing her morning gown. Obviously Charity had woken her up.

"You look dead on your feet," she said after taking one long look at Charity. "Do come in."

Charity collapsed into one of Poppy's chairs and let the older witch examine her. Poppy finally put her wand away and frowned.

"Well, it's a good thing it's Saturday morning. You go straight back to bed and sleep all week-end, then you should be alright by Monday. Or better, at least."

"Can't," Charity croaked. "Dumbledore wants me to go to London, remember? And what's more, _I_ want to go."

"Absolutely out of the question," the school matron replied sternly.

"But I want to _go_,"Charity complained, feeling like a little girl. "Can't I just take Pepper-Up all day? I am sure it would help."

"And the side-effects would keep you up all night. If you have used up that large bottle I gave you yesterday, you've had almost too much already. Besides, you could not go to a Muggle event with smoke emitting from your ears."

"But…"

"You are not going to London, and that's final. You will stay warm, drink tea and orange juice, and sleep as much as possible. I will inform Dumbledore that you are unable to go."

Charity finally gave in. She went back to her rooms and back to bed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When Charity woke up again, it already was two o'clock in the afternoon. She felt a little better – breathing still was a problem, but at least her headache was gone. And Charity was hungry.

She dressed as warmly as possible and slowly made her way downstairs. It was way past lunch-time already, but the house-elves could certainly provide some sandwiches and tea.

Too bad that Charity's personal elf had his day off. She had insisted that little Daely would have one free day per week (he had protested strongly against this _humiliation_), and now she was paying for it by having to look for food herself instead of just ordering it like any lazy wizard would...

"Charity?"

Pomona was hurriedly walking up the stairs, her robes trailing melting snow and mud. Filch would be not be amused.

"Mmm?"

"If you don't mind me saying so, you look awful. Shouldn't you be in bed, or at least in an armchair next to a blazing hot fire?"

"I missed lunch and was going to go to the kitchens, sneak some food from the elves," Charity explained grumpily.

"You'll catch your death if you go down to the kitchens. It's always cold in the lower floors."

Pomona bit her lower lip and looked at Charity, pondering something.

"Tell you what, why don't you come with me? I was going to have tea with Minerva and help her pick Muggle clothes for tonight. I am sure she will have something to eat. And you're the Muggle expert after all. Your opinion will be appreciated."

Charity nodded while blowing her nose again. Sitting on a sofa and being served some hot tea did sound much better than munching stale sandwiches all alone.

"I was not aware that Minerva would want help and advice with choosing her clothes," Charity pondered while she and Pomona walked to the Deputy Headmistress's rooms.

"Oh," Pomona laughed, "there's a difference between privately wishing for advice and openly saying so. She is quite concerned about her appearance, although she tries not to show it. Officially, we're just going to have tea and chat like old friends do once in a while. I might just mention sooner or later that I am curious what she's going to wear, and then... you know."

Pomona made a vague movement with her hand and grinned again. Then she knocked on Minerva's door, which was opened only seconds later.

"You are early," Minerva said.

"I could not stand the cold in the greenhouses any more," Pomona replied. "Look, I've brought Charity along, she wanted to ask you something about that art thingy..."

"Come in," Minerva said. "What did you need, Charity?"

"Erm," Charity mumbled, doing some quick thinking while Pomona took off her cloak and hat.

"I… I was going to ask if you could bring me some information material about that photographer, and his exhibition. I was going to pick up some for my students, but since I cannot go…"

Minerva ushered them into her living-room and and raised her eyebrow slightly when Pomona sat down on her cream-coloured sofa.

"The cloak is full of fertiliser," Pomona snapped, "my _robes_ are clean."

"I never said a thing," Minerva replied while pouring their tea. She had easily transfigured a napkin into a third tea-cup for her unexpected guest.

"That is an excellent idea, Charity," she went on. "I am sure there will be a catalogue or some leaflets I can buy. Contemporary Muggle art will be interesting for your students to study."

"Thank you," Charity croaked.

"You do look ill," the Gryffindor Head remarked. "I am sorry that you cannot come along, but I agree with the Headmaster and Poppy that you ought not to go out."

"Do you have any of those ginger newts?" Pomona asked eagerly. "I am starving, and Charity has skipped lunch, too."

"I knew you'd ask," Minerva said dryly.

She clicked her fingers and instantly her house-elf appeared, an ancient female Charity did not know. Very politely, Minerva asked the elf to fetch some food for them. The creature grinned. Apparently she had already anticipated that order, because she re-appeared instantly with a tray full of food.

They ate in comfortable silence. Charity looked around in the big living room. She had never before entered Minerva's private quarters. The Deputy Headmistress had a larger living room than Charity, but it was so full of books-shelves that it appeared smaller. In one corner, there was a large storage rack with boxes labelled 'matches', 'tea-cups', or 'buttons' – Minerva's materials for Transfiguration class.

The door to Minerva's bed-room stood slightly ajar and they could see some garments spread out on the bed. After a few minutes, Pomona pointed to them.

"So, what are you wearing tonight?"

"I was in the process of deciding when you arrived. I suppose any Muggle dress and coat will do."

"Ah, no, it's an art show where you're going. You have to dress up a bit. Do show what you have," Pomona requested.

Minerva shrugged, but stood up and fetched a costume from the next room.

Charity nodded approvingly. The shirtwaist grey dress and matching black velvet jacket looked boring, but formal enough for an evening event. Wearing that, Minerva would look just like an old-fashioned English grammar teacher from some private girls' school.

Pomona frowned.

"What do you think, Charity?"

"It looks alright to me."

"But so boring. I don't know," the Hufflepuff Head pondered, "something is missing there. Minerva, put it on."

"Pomona, I am not going there to win a beauty contest. A boring costume will do."

Charity suppressed a smile. Pomona had been right. The Deputy Headmistress did sound rather concerned about her appearance.

"Maybe you _should_ put it on," she now agreed with Pomona. "It's easier to judge then."

"Alright."

Minerva retreated into her bedroom and re-emerged five minutes later, now wearing the ensemble. She looked slightly concerned, but tried not to show it.

"Well?" she asked crossly.

"It would do," Charity said. "But it is a bit boring. You look just like… a Miss Temple of our century."

"Shirley Temple?" Pomona asked astonished. "The Muggle actress?"

"I think she means Miss Temple of _Jane Eyre,_" Minerva said dryly. "I think I understand what you mean, Charity."

"It's not that bad. You just look exactly like everyone pictures a stern school mistress. Of course, that is not the worst Muggle disguise, especially for a real teacher. I just don't imagine that kind of lady would go out all alone in London."

Charity took another sip of her tea and mustered the Deputy Headmistress closely.

"The jacket is fine," she decided. "Black velvet is very classy. If you had a matching skirt and blouse instead of that dress…"

"I will see what I can find," Minerva sighed.

She returned into her bedroom and was just about to close the door when someone knocked. Minerva frowned. She did obviously not like to be seen wearing Muggle clothes.

"Could you –"

"I'll get it."

Pomona jumped from her seat and opened the door. Outside waited Severus, looking more annoyed than Charity had seen him in a couple of weeks.

"What are you doing here?" he asked the Hufflepuff Head.

"And a good day to you, too," Pomona replied. "We're helping Minerva with her dress for tonight."

Minerva had returned into her living room, still in her grey dress.

"A good idea, though not very successful so far," Severus scowled. "Minerva, that dress is from the wrong century."

"I _know_," Minerva snapped. "What do you want?"

"The Headmaster has informed me that our dear Professor for Muggle Studies is too ill to go to London tonight."

Severus looked at Charity as though he wondered if she had purposely chosen to become ill. Charity sneezed to emphasize that she _was_ feeling awful.

"So?"

"And thus he has decided that I am to accompany you to this ridiculous event."

"You certainly don't need to," Minerva said icily. "I will be perfectly fine."

She did indeed not look too happy about this development. Severus nodded gravely.

"I assure you that did not beg for the task. But apparently the fact that my house is located in a run-down Muggle town now makes me an expert on non-magical creatures; and according to the Headmaster, Miggs would _of course_ feel more comfortable if he met two members of the old Order of the Phoenix instead of one…" he sneered.

"But this is wonderful!" Pomona exclaimed.

Both Severus and Minerva looked at her as though she had lost her mind.

"It will look so much better if you go together," the Herbology teacher continued brightly. "This will be _great_ fun. Severus, you can pick Minerva up at seven sharp. We will see to it that she is ready then."

"What if I refuse to take you along?" the Gryffindor Head said, ignoring Pomona's words.

"The Headmaster has anticipated that case and told me to inform you that his decision is final. I will meet you outside Dumbledore's office, at seven."

He turned around and slammed the door shut. Charity looked from Minerva's more-than-annoyed expression to Pomona's bright grin.

"Now, if this is going to be a _date_ we definitely need to find something more fashionable for you," she said happily.

"Pomona, this is not a date –"

"You will need to look like you are on a date if you go together. Come _on_, Charity, let's see what surprises are hidden in Minerva's cupboards."

Minerva looked as though she was going to murder her friend, but she was momentarily too confused to stop Pomona from rummaging through her clothes cupboard.

Charity couldn't help it. She laughed and got up from her chair. Pomona war right, this was going to be great fun.


	7. Meeting Martin Miggs

**Chapter 7 – Meeting Martin Miggs**

_**(Minerva McGonagall POV)**_

It was five minutes to seven and Minerva was on her way to Dumbledore's office. The corridors were almost deserted, a fact that she felt rather grateful for. Just how had Pomona and Charity succeeded in talking her into wearing _this_?

She stopped for a moment, took off the heavy Muggle coat she had borrowed from Rolanda, and checked her reflection in one of the windows – again. A long skirt of dark-green sateen (mind you, _sateen_, she would never wear a cheap and tasteless fabric like _satin_), an opaque white silk blouse (not too low-cut, just a little), and the black velvet jacket that had originally belonged to her dull grey dress. The whole ensemble looked quite elegant. The problem was that Minerva felt naked. The skirt and blouse were the kind of light garments that she would usually wear _under_ her robes.

But Charity had assured her that Muggle women would dress like that. She had failed to explain how they avoided freezing to death with only one layer of clothing under their winter coats (plus underwear of course, but that hardly counted in Minerva's opinion).

Well, the velvet jacket helped a bit. It was tailored to resemble those lovely old-fashioned riding habits that some ladies had still worn in Minerva's teenage years. At least this one was a Muggle garment she felt comfortable in.

She shrugged irritably when she realised that she had been staring at her reflection for at least one minute. Merlin's beard, she was beginning to act like Goldilocks! It was not as though Minerva needed to impress anyone that evening. She put the warm coat on again and continued her way to the Headmaster's office.

Minerva hurried up when she saw that there was already someone waiting for her outside Dumbledore's office; but then she saw that it only was Charity standing next to the stone gargoyle.

"What are you doing here?" Minerva panted slightly out of breath.

For one second, she hoped that the Professor for Muggle Studies might have decided to come along after all. But Charity was wearing her usual robes and still had her warm scarf wrapped around her neck.

"I've brought you this," Charity croaked with some effort.

She held out a small, colourful magazine.

"It's one of the Miggs comics. Ron Weasley agreed to lend me a copy. I thought you might want to have a look at it before you meet the real Martin Miggs; and reading is a common Muggle pastime in the underground."

"And I won't have to talk to a certain ill-tempered Potions Master then," Minerva replied darkly. "Thank you, Charity."

"Where is he, anyway?" Charity managed to ask before sneezing loudly.

"Bless you. – I don't know." Minerva checked her wristwatch. "Five minutes past already. I suppose Severus has decided to be late to emphasize how unwilling he is to go."

"I did not think that point needed any more emphasizing," Severus replied.

Minerva turned around and looked at the Slytherin Head. She immediately was annoyed with him. He had not even bothered to dress like a proper Muggle! Severus wore his usual black trousers and frock-like teacher's coat. Apparently the only compromise was a dark Muggle winter coat he carried draped over his arm.

Minerva drew in a deep breath to lecture the younger man about proper dress codes when she saw that Charity was nodding approvingly.

"Very good, Severus," Charity grinned. "The Aspiring Yet Unsuccessful Writer?"

"What?" Minerva complained, "He has not even put on Muggle clothes!"

"Of course he has. The trousers are denim, there's a black turtleneck under that frock instead of the usual pressed white shirt… why, he's the cliché bohemian writer. It's perfect for a London art show."

"I think we ought to get going," Severus said icily, "once you are quite done praising my appearance. Minerva, are you ready?"

"You were the one who was late…" she muttered while Severus bellowed Dumbledore's password ('Caramel Cluster') at the stone gargoyle. The stature obediently jumped aside.

Severus went up the spiral staircase without waiting for Minerva. She nodded a good-bye to Charity – the younger witch was definitely suppressing a smile – and followed him.

Dumbledore's office was empty. Apparently he had already left for his conference with the Minister, because there was an envelope labelled 'Minerva' on the mantelpiece next to the pot containing the floo powder. Minerva opened the letter and found quite a sum of Muggle money and a small piece of parchment with Dumbledore's handwriting on it.

"Your report to me can wait until tomorrow; I will most likely be gone for the whole night. Enjoy your evening – Albus," she read the message aloud.

Severus snorted. She nevertheless handed him half of the money.

"Let's get going," Severus said. He gestured for Minerva to go first.

A minute later, they stepped into the main room of the Leaky Cauldron. The innkeeper Tom greeted Minerva with his usual friendly smile. She was glad that he did not inquire where they intended to go. Of course, Tom was accustomed to wizards in Mugglewear who used his pub as a starting point for their journeys into non-magical London. They quickly left the pub.

It was an extremely cold night. Even there in the heart of London there were snowflakes in the air. Minerva wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck and put her hands in her pockets. Severus finally put his dark coat on. Minerva had to admit that he did actually look like a Muggle. And he did not even look that bad without his usual robes, although she preferred the sombre wizard garments.

Minerva shook her head. Had she just considered the possibility that Severus sometimes looked handsome?

"So where are we going?" he asked.

"Lambeth. I checked the London Underground system and it is on the Bakerloo Line… so we can go from the Charing Cross Station to Lambeth North."

"This way," he pointed.

They walked on. Minerva thought it best not to talk too much. If she had to spend this evening in the company of Severus Snape, she might as well make an effort to make it not too unpleasant. Probably he would appreciate if she let him demonstrate his knowledge about Muggles. It was quite amazing how he managed to blend into the crowd.

Minerva waited while Severus purchased their underground tickets and watched the Muggles around them. No one paid her any attention, so Charity's advice on dressing had probably been quite good. The underground ride was not too bad, either. Although a train that was powered by electricity (instead of a reliable power source like magic) made Minerva slightly uneasy, she tried not to show it. She kept telling herself that this was just like a ride in one of those horrible carts down in the Gringotts dungeons.

Charity had been right. Many of the other passengers were reading books or newspapers. Severus had picked up a copy of the _Evening Standard_ that someone had left in the train. Minerva started leafing through the comic magazine Charity had given her. It was just a short story of ten pages.

In this volume, Martin the Mad Muggle happened to find an injured owl in his garden and took it to a veterinary, who then found that there was a message attached to the owl's leg. The vet then kindly explained to Martin that owls were not to be used like carrier pigeons. Martin insisted that he had not written that message, but no one believed him. In the end, the now-healed owl snatched the message back and took off. Martin and the vet continued to converse about carrier pigeons and more modern ways of communication, like telephones, the Royal Mail, and a very modern device called 'e-mail'.

"Is the comic any good?"

Severus had put his newspaper away and looked at Minerva. Apparently his mood had in the meantime improved somewhat.

"Very good, I think. The pictures are high-quality drawings, and the story explains everything about Muggle ways of communication. Maybe we should order some of those comics for our library. They are quite instructive."

"Try telling that to Irma. She won't have comic books in her precious library, even if they are wizard comics."

"But they would be good for the students. Especially for pure-bloods who make hundreds of mistakes in the Muggle world…"

"Like not paying attention to their surroundings. Get up; the next stop is Lambeth North."

The gallery was easy to find once they had left the underground station. It was small, and already crowded with people. Minerva showed their invitation card to the lady in the entrance and then almost dropped the card with surprise when Severus helped her with her coat.

"Don't get used to it," he whispered dryly. "I am just trying to display polite Muggle behaviour."

"This is proper etiquette in our world, too."

"But in our world everybody knows a Slytherin would never be respectful to a Gryffindor. Here… things are different."

"How so?"

Severus gave her an exasperated look and took their coats to the cloakroom. Minerva looked around some more. So far, a Muggle art show appeared to be much like a similar event in Diagon Alley or anywhere else in the wizarding world. The drinks were served by young waiters and waitresses instead of house-elves, and there were none of the typical festive wizard decorations like Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet Start Fireworks or Filius's favourite, real fairies – but apart from that there was nothing unusual.

Nobody was interested in the artwork, although everyone _pretended_ to look at the large photographs. The true reason for people to come to the vernissage of an art show was to be seen with other people who were more famous. Minerva went to buy a biography of the artist and an exhibition catalogue for Charity.

"Do you know what this Martin Miggs looks like?"

Severus had returned and they proceeded to look at the large bright-coloured photographs.

"I have no idea. Hopefully he will recognise us."

"I do," a high-pitched voice said next to Minerva. "At least I recognise this one here."

A small, balding, nervous-looking man carrying a large leather bag man pointed at Severus. He smiled civilly, but his light blue eyes looked wary.

"Mr Martin Miggs, I assume?" Minerva asked. The man looked exactly like his comic self portrait.

"Indeed. And you must be the famous Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, Miss McGonagall. Albus told me he would send you two."

Minerva immediately disliked him. No one had called her 'Miss' since her school-days (although the term was technically correct); and she most certainly disapproved of the way Miggs had referred to Severus as 'this one'. Being nasty to the Head of Slytherin was _her_ prerogative.

"I would not know about famous," Minerva replied crisply, "but I am Professor McGonagall. Professor Dumbledore is very sorry that he could not come and meet you personally. He has sent Professor Snape and me instead."

"It was good of you to come," Miggs replied, again in the bored voice of one who was merely displaying good manners. "I have to admit that I was on the point of cancelling this whole meeting when Albus told me he could not see me personally. But he insisted that I could trust you."

Miggs stressed the last word while looking pointedly at Minerva. Then he looked at Severus again, as though trying to figure out if trust was also justified in his case. The Potions Master met his eyes levelly.

"_Professor_ Snape was good enough to accompany me because I asked him to," Minerva lied. "Since Professor Dumbledore was tied up with other matters, we thought you might prefer to meet two members of his old Order of the Phoenix instead of just his Deputy Headmistress."

"We might want to continue this discussion somewhere else," Severus said quietly. "Although it is unlikely that we will be overheard in this chattering crowd; details concerning our world ought not to be discussed openly."

"Good idea, Professor Snape," Minerva agreed. "May I suggest one of the small tables over there?"

She pointed to a few bar tables close to the entrance. Most of the visitors had by now moved into the main room of the exhibition and the entrance area was almost deserted. Miggs nodded nervously.

"Would you tell us what you found out about the Chamber of Secrets?" Minerva asked once they had picked the table the farthest away from everyone else.

Miggs nodded slowly. The small man produced a brown document binder out of his bag and put it on the table.

"Everything I have found out is collected here. Please give it to Albus as soon as possible. I would not want it to get into the wrong hands."

"I will give it to him as soon as I see him," Minerva promised.

She studied Miggs's anxious face, beginning to understand what Dumbledore had meant when he had called his friend 'paranoid'. Miggs was overly cautious, which maybe explained his impoliteness towards the Slytherin Head.

"_Did_ you find anything interesting?" she asked gently. "More than the rumours we already know?"

"Well... the monster has never been active apart from that incident 50 years ago. I had to go back and research the legends concerning Salazar Slytherin himself. Apparently he told quite a few people about his plan to rid Hogwarts of all Muggle-borns. It is interesting that almost all reports of his preparations somehow refer to the eyes of the monster. 'Deadly eyes' or 'piercing eyes' are terms that are used to quite an extend."

"Meaning that the monster kills by looking at something?"

"Or it might drain the life energy of its victim once the victim looks at the monster," Miggs explained. "Or the eyes might just be a metaphor for something else – the pointed ends of talons, or a forked tail. One can never take such legends literally."

"But the actual eyes seem likely," Severus argued. "Maybe the monster does not kill with its stare, but once eye contact is established with the victim."

"Like I said, we cannot know," Miggs replied. "Of course I have heard that eye contact is necessary for many branches of magic. – There is one more detail that I have found out. I believe the monster may be some sort of dragon."

"A dragon _in_ Hogwarts?" Minerva asked.

"I read about Slytherin's presumed hometown in Norfolk. There is carved stone portal in an ancient ruin just outside the place. It may date back roughly to the time when Slytherin or his direct descendants lived."

"What does it show?"

"A man mastering a dragon, or a serpent. I think it looks more like a dragon. The people there believe it to be a depiction of St George, but that cannot be right. The myth of George the Dragon-Slayer goes back to the eleventh century and was brought to England by knights returning from the crusades. This portal may be older than that myth. And St George is usually depicted on a horse, killing the dragon with a spear or a sword – but this man in the fresco is shown with a small staff like an exaggerated wand, and he does not slay the dragon. He rather charms it."

"That is interesting," Severus agreed. "People have always wondered if the Slytherin Serpent stands for a dragon. Also, we know that a dragon's eyes are its weak spots. 'Deadly eyes' may refer to a way of killing the monster."

"If you say so. I have never studied magical creatures. My field of expertise are myths and legends – and Muggle history."

"And drawing," Minerva smiled, trying to be nice to Miggs. "I read one of your comics. It was very good."

"One has to earn a living," Miggs said dryly. "Being a historian does not pay well."

"But comic drawing does?"

"Surprisingly, yes. Folks like Rian Hughes paved the way for us, and since the late eighties mags like _Crisis_ and _Deadline_ made comics even more popular. This is the United Kingdom, after all, not the United States. But I heard that a group of Marvel artists now rebel against their contracts. There is talk of a new publisher called _Image Comics_…"

Minerva had no idea what the man was talking about. A small sideways glace to Severus showed her that the Head of Slytherin (and the designated Muggle expert of the evening) felt equally lost.

"Fascinating," he said nevertheless. "Is there anything else you can tell us about the Chamber of Secrets, though?"

"No, Snape, I have told you everything I know or care to relate under these circumstances. I trust that Albus will study my research papers and then let you know if he finds anything else that might concern you."

The Potions Master only nodded, but Minerva saw that he had grown a little paler than before – a sure sign that he was angry.

"In that case, Professor McGonagall," he said, "I suggest that we leave and take this precious report back to Hogwarts. May I offer to retrieve your coat?"

He did not wait for a reply and strode off. Minerva faced Martin Miggs, more than just a bit annoyed with his non-existent manners.

"Is there a particular reason for this hostility towards _Professor_ Snape?"

Miggs smiled a knowing smile and took his time with answering.

"Indeed there is," he finally explained. "I remember very well that only twelve years ago wizards like him tried to kill me – for not other reason than the fact that I cannot wave a wand and produce sparkling stars."

"Not wizards like him. Professor Snape is not a Death Eater."

"So Albus keeps telling me. Why, Snape's picture was all over the _Daily Prophet_ when You-Know-Who fell. He was a Death Eater for sure."

"Who saw the error of his ways and started working for Dumbledore long before the tide turned."

"The Head of Gryffindor House defends a Slytherin Death Eater. I admit that I am surprised," Miggs said.

"Mr Miggs, if you are truly a friend of Albus Dumbledore, you ought to respect his opinion," Minerva said coldly. "Dumbledore believes Professor Snape's return to our side was because of true remorse. There is no need to discuss this point any more."

"I was not aware that one always has to assent to the views of a friend. So you trust a known murderer because Dumbledore does so?"

"No. I trust _my friend_ because I know him, believe him, and like him. – Good day to you, Mr Miggs."

Minerva snatched the document binder off the table, turned on the spot and stormed out of the small gallery. She was shaking with fury.

"Here, put that on."

Severus had followed her and handed Minerva her winter coat.

"Did you hear what that man said!" she exclaimed hotly. "How _dare_ he speak like that?! He does not even _know_ you!"

"I did hear what he said," Severus replied with just a trace of bitterness in his voice. "He only dared to speak what people usually think when they see me. Did you honestly believe everyone suddenly started liking me back then just because the Headmaster vouched for me?"

"But – everyone at Hogwarts…"

"At Hogwarts. Where you see me every day and know that I have broken my bad habit of employing the Unforgivable Curses. But those people who only saw my face in the newspaper and read the unlikely story of a redeemed Death Eater…"

"It's not fair," Minerva said weakly.

"Life isn't fair. _Do_ put that coat on, you are shivering already and people are staring at us."

Minerva finally wrapped up in her warm clothes, all of a sudden realising that she was in fact very cold. She would never get used to Muggle attire. That skirt was much too light for this season. She stomped her feet to warm up again.

"Let's go for a walk," she finally suggested. "If I remember correctly, the Thames is not too far away, is it?"

"I think not. Ten minutes on foot, maybe fifteen."

"Then let's go, if you don't mind. I need to warm up and cool down at the same time; do you know what I mean?"

He snorted, but nodded as though he understood. They did not talk while walking through the cold streets. Minerva still was angry. Naturally she had always known that people wondered about Severus's past – to be perfectly honest, most of the Hogwarts staff members including herself had at first doubted Dumbledore's decisions. Also, the Slytherin's trademark unsociable behaviour did not exactly invite people to trust him. But it was different to see that mistrust and doubt openly demonstrated by a stranger.

A good ten minutes later, they had arrived at the riverside. They quickly left Westminster Bridge which was, despite the cold and the night-time, crowded with tourists taking pictures of the Houses of Parliament on the other side of the Thames. Following the riverside, they eventually arrived in a quieter area.

"Where are we?" Minerva asked at length. The area looked like a park, but she was not sure if it was open to the public at this time of the night.

"This might be Jubilee Gardens," Severus replied. "I do not know this area of London very well."

"Anyway, it is a nice spot."

She went to the riverside again and leaned over the guard-rail to look down into the dark water; fully aware that the Potions Master watched her with a curious expression on his face. Just looking at that water made her feel even colder.

"What is it, Severus?" she finally asked without turning around.

He laughed softly and also stepped up to the railing.

"That was quite a passionate speech you gave there."

"Just because I am a Gryffindor I don't need to approve of people being impolite to you."

"So you said. Miggs appeared quite surprised."

"Does that happen to you often?" Minerva asked hesitatingly. "That people still only see the former Death Eater in you?"

"Often enough. And usually they do not bother to use the little word _former_."

The Deputy Headmistress drew in a deep breath. They rarely ever spoke of such personal matters, and she was somewhat surprised that Severus did not try to change the subject.

"That is awful," she said. "They should try to see more than just your past. – Mind you, not that you are a very pleasant person now."

He actually laughed; a sound she had hardly ever heard.

"There is the snappy Head of Gryffindor again. I was already beginning to worry. Tonight was the second time you defended me in less than a month."

She smiled, too, suddenly understanding why she had lately felt so uncomfortable. Ever since their library encounter (as Minerva preferred to call it) and the resulting argument on the next morning she had been overly cautious around Severus. It was time to stop treading like on eggshells.

"At least tonight I only had to defend you _verbally_," she said mock-earnestly. "There was no need for – desperate measures."

"Now you are going too far," he replied with the same pretended seriousness. "Was kissing me that horrible?"

Minerva pretended to think hard and furrowed her brow while rubbing her freezing hands. She had not taken her gloves along because they were made of dragon-skin instead of regular leather.

"No, I suppose not," she then decided. "You know what they say; every woman should try kissing a younger man at least once in her life."

"Is that so," he said dryly. "You will forgive me if I am no longer available for that kind of service."

Minerva laughed and closed her eyes. It was good to have those enjoyable discussions again. They stood in comfortable silence for another minute or two. She put her hands back into her pockets, wondering if she dared to perform a heating charm. There were only very few Muggles around, and they were far away from the two Hogwarts teachers.

"The way you are fidgeting," Severus suddenly said, "you are either cold or hungry. Or both."

She stopped moving on the spot and smiled.

"Both," she admitted, only now realising how starved she felt.

Of course this was all Pomona's fault because the Hufflepuff Head had kept her occupied with her dress until the very last minute. Now Minerva remembered that she had hardly eaten anything all day while her two guests had gone through a large tray of sandwiches and biscuits.

"How did you know I was hungry?"

"Sitting next to someone at the staff table for twelve years does teach you a few things."

They started walking again, passing a few Muggle tourists who were busy taking pictures the river. One of the young men was munching on a sandwich. Minerva watched him enviously.

"Why don't we go and get something to eat before we go back to Hogwarts?" Severus suddenly asked.

Minerva looked at him in surprise. He shrugged defiantly.

"After all the Headmaster did give us all that money to waste," he added.

The Head of Gryffindor suppressed a smile. She could tell that _he_ was equally surprised with his suggestion.

"Alright," she said slowly. "What about that that Italian place in Diagon Alley, behind Florean Fortescue's? I have always wanted to try that."

"I am not going anywhere near Diagon Alley tonight, except maybe for flooing back from the Leaky Cauldron. Not with Lockhart there."

"Dear Merlin, you are right. I forgot he is signing books again. Do you have any suggestions?"

"We will find some acceptable place."

"Then let us go."

This time Minerva allowed that smile to spread on her face. She would definitely not tell Pomona or anyone else about that part of the evening. They would not understand. This was _not_ a date – this was _better _than a date. She was going to have dinner with a very dear friend.


	8. Unexpected Propinquity

_A/N: Now don't start accusing me of inventing overly romantic locations in London. That pub does exist, it's on the riverside and in walking distance from Jubilee Gardens. A bit touristy, but lovely old-fashioned with a maze of tiny rooms where you could talk for hours without being overheard. It's beautiful when there is snow outside! And the whiskey is not too bad, either._

**

* * *

****Chapter 8 – ****Unexpected ****Propinquity**

_**(Severus Snape POV)**_

Two hours later, Severus leaned back in his chair and studied the conundrum known as Minerva McGonagall sitting on the other side of the small table between them. He still had not quite figured out how or why they, the Heads of _eternally_ rivalling Houses, had ended up in this pub, or why he had actually enjoyed the evening so far. Just for this one time he was inclined to let the matter drop and to simply accept those irritating facts.

It had been a strange evening so far. Playing the tourist guide for the Head of Gryffindor had not been on his list of planned activities for the weekend – or ever. But so far, things had developed nicely. Noticing that Minerva had actually made a grudging effort to _not_ make this evening result in disaster had been the first pleasant surprise. It had been fairly obvious how unwillingly she had accepted his company, but at least she had not taken that out on him. (Severus suspected that the Headmaster, on the other hand, would be in for some scolding tomorrow.)

The next, and no less pleasant surprise had been the incident at the Muggle art show – a most interesting development. Of course that Miggs guy was an obnoxious person, but Minerva had reacted to the man's rude behaviour as though Miggs had insulted Robert the Bruce. In spite of her infamous Scottish temper she usually was a model of politeness and correct manners.

If she lost her nerve and started shouting, it typically was in an argument _against_ Severus. (He was privately rather proud of the fact that he could make her _very_ furious in less than a minute. The trick was mentioning the words 'Potter', 'Quidditch Cup' and 'not a chance' in rapid succession.) Tonight, however, Minerva had started shouting at someone else _in defence_ of Severus – an event yet unprecedented (if one did not count that… little bit of play-acting when she had helped him to get rid of Goldilocks. But that was quite a different matter. She had wanted a favour in return for her assistance then.)

Now Minerva was looking out of the window, enjoying the view of the night-time riverside. It was quite a beautiful sight. _She_ was quite a sight in that elegant green skirt and black velvet jacket, although he would never publicly admit that. Also, he did prefer her proper witch attire.

But it was noteworthy to see how Minerva managed to wear those clothes without showing that she did not feel overly comfortable when dressed like a Muggle. Well, there might have been clues. She obviously had felt very cold while they had walked on in search of a pub, although she had not complained. (Not too much, at least. For a woman.) Even after they had settled down in this old-fashioned pub back room, and very close to a blazing fireside, she had not stopped shivering until he had ordered her a Hot Toddy. That, and a large Cumberland Pie which she had devoured like a starving lioness.

"What is it, Severus? It is relatively disturbing to see a smile on your face."

He snapped out of his pondering mood; realising that he had been staring at her.

"It's the missing hat," he said. "I think I have hardly ever seen you outside Hogwarts without a proper pointed hat. Makes you look almost like a Muggle."

"Almost?"

"For a spoiled pure-blood, you are doing quite well."

"I suppose that is meant as a compliment," Minerva answered wryly.

"Possibly."

She smirked and leaned back in her chair; relaxing more with every minute that passed. It truly was quite an unusual sight. That smirk changed into a small, thoughtful smile.

"What?" Severus asked.

"I think I have just understood something about you," Minerva slowly answered.

"And what would that be?"

"Why you do return to your house in the summer holidays. I always used to wonder why you would keep a house in a Muggle town. You appear so much more at home in our world."

"I simply cannot afford to sell the place and buy a new house. That run-down shack is not worth a thing."

Besides, where would he go to? Dumbledore would welcome him at Hogwarts, but Severus was not _that_ fond of his life as a teacher. And anywhere else… who would welcome a former Death Eater in the neighbourhood? It was not worth going through all the trouble of a move if that did not improve his living situation.

"That may be part of the reason, but I think it is not your true motive."

Minerva paused for a second and looked at him quizzically, possibly wondering if he would contradict her. Severus waited for her to go on.

"I think once in a while you like being around Muggles because they do not know about your past. When they look at you, they only see who you are now – not who you used to be."

A direct hit. Severus knew that she had spoken a truth he would never have admitted.

"You don't actually believe that I would be a popular person in Spinner's End?" he asked with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

"Oh, heavens, no! You being popular with anyone – that very idea is unsettling."

Once again there was that malicious smirk on her face. He smiled very briefly to show that he understood she was only teasing him. She had earned that after her passionate speech in his defence.

"Your Muggle neighbours probably only know a man who prefers to live by himself. They will not care too much about you because they hardly ever meet you," Minerva went on. "But when they do meet you, they do not whisper behind your back and call you a criminal. Not like Miggs did."

"Maybe," he said slowly. "I have to admit that dealing with Muggles sometimes is less… tiresome than dealing with wizards. Although few wizards are openly hostile like Miggs. I am a well-respected school-teacher, you know."

"Really. I never would have noticed."

"Feeling a little bold tonight, are we?"

"Actually, yes. It must be relief. I did not think this evening would become – enjoyable."

Minerva cleared her throat as though she had said something wrong and looked out of the window again. Severus suppressed a smile. So now his company was _enjoyable_? He would have to do something about that. Really, he did have a reputation to uphold.

"Enjoyable," he said, deadpan.

"Oh just shut up, you know what I mean!" Minerva growled.

"So what do your Muggle neighbours think about you?" she then deliberately changed the subject. "Don't they think it strange that you only spend the summers in Spinner's End?"

"If anybody asks, I tell them that I am a teacher at a private boarding school in Scotland."

"A teacher for what subjects?"

"Chemistry and English."

"And that is sufficient information? None of your neighbours ever wanted to know more about you? Personal life, hobbies, plans – I would have thought the common Muggle to be more inquisitive."

"My secret ambition is to write a novel. That is why I usually stay in Scotland for the Christmas and Easter holidays. The school is quiet then and I can work in peace."

"And what if anybody ever wants to read that book?"

"My future novel is about the history of chemical studies in England. No publisher would ever accept something that boring – Charity was perfectly right; the Aspiring Yet Unsuccessful Writer is a perfect disguise."

"A neat story." Minerva nodded approvingly.

"Living a double-life ought to be easy for a former spy," Severus said.

They fell silent once more, each of them following their own thoughts. Once more, Minerva avoided looking at him and watched the dancing snowflakes outside; and once more he used that opportunity to study her thoroughly.

Defining what exactly his relationship with the other teacher was like had recently become increasingly harder. They had moved from teacher and student to opponents in a war, then to colleagues and then to unusual, competing friends. And now… close friends?

That little scene in the library had brought about a subtle change. For the first time, Severus had had to acknowledge the fact that the Head of Gryffindor House was not only his friend, but a _female_ friend. It had surprised him how readily that bother known as Gilderoy Lockhart had believed them to be a couple.

And Goldilocks appeared to be not the only one who thought this charade a good idea. Albus had hinted how delighted he was, Filius had of lately mentioned three times that his late wife had been older than him, and Pomona had had the nerve to call this evening a date. All of a sudden the whole world – or the whole Hogwarts staff, at least – seemed to expect them to fall in love.

Which was, of course, utterly impossible. Well, maybe not impossible. Minerva was the type of woman he liked; the kind he could hypothetically love. Except that he did not.

Minerva called the waitress and ordered a hot chocolate. Severus raised his eyebrows, but did not comment any further. It was highly uncommon for the stern Deputy Headmistress to ask for something sweet – but maybe the snowstorm outside had made her long for the warming chocolate.

"Are you still cold?" he asked when she wrapped her sleek fingers around the steaming mug.

"Not any more. I was thinking about Miggs again and thought I needed something to soothe my nerves."

"Why does Miggs bother you that much? I agree that he is highly dislikeable, but –"

"That is exactly what I mean. Miggs is a _nasty_ person. I cannot believe him to be friends with Dumbledore."

Minerva took a sip of her hot chocolate. She almost looked unhappy.

"Miggs is bitter," Severus said. "We do not know what happened to him in the past. The Headmaster said he chose to live in the Muggle world; yet he does keep in touch with our world through his comics. Maybe he is one of those who were… driven away years ago."

"So just because he is bitter about how his life developed it is justified for him to insult you?"

Severus slowly shook his head. He knew about bitterness.

"Perhaps not justified. But understandable."

Minerva still did not look convinced. With slow movements, she stirred more sugar into her chocolate.

"He called you a _murderer_, Severus," she said in a very quiet voice.

"That is what I am," he answered equally quiet.

He closed his eyes when he heard his own voice. Severus had not meant to say that. He had not meant to confess this particular fact ever again, but the amiable atmosphere of their conversation had lulled him into a false sense of security. Dumbledore knew the details of his past, and that was more than enough. No one else was to know anything.

The Head of Slytherin House opened his eyes again, but still avoided to look at Minerva. He heard her set her chocolate mug down on the table.

"I know, Severus," she said calmly. "That is not what I meant. One cannot deny your past; but Miggs treated you as though you habitually went out to kill old ladies in their beds."

Now Severus stared at her. He had expected anything but that.

"You know," he repeated tonelessly.

"I did not actually _know _until you just confirmed it," Minerva said resolutely. "Albus told us that he had promised to never give away details concerning your past. However, I do know what it meant to be a Death Eater. I admit that I always more or less assumed that you were one of the… more active ones."

"And you don't mind?"

"Of course I do mind. But I also know that people can change and… I trust you. I suppose strictly speaking you will always be a _murderer_, but you are not a _Death Eater_ any more. And that is what Miggs meant."

Severus looked at his colleague and former teacher. He was dumbfounded – one of the few times in his life when he had felt that way. During the past few weeks he had realised just how much this strange friendship with the Head of Gryffindor meant to him, but he had not expected her to feel equally strong about it. 'Trust' was a word that he had not often heard concerning him.

Minerva now looked perfectly calm. She even smiled a little.

"You do look as though you need a strong drink now," she remarked dryly.

"Maybe I do," he eventually managed to say.

"Good, because I want one, too. They would not have any Firewhisky here, would they?"

Severus was glad that she had changed the subject.

"Certainly not. I reckon we should consider ourselves lucky if they can do a respectable blended whisky; this place does look a bit touristy. Single grain may be too much to ask for."

"What would you know about decent single grain?" Minerva said, with just a touch of a Scottish burr.

"Is that supposed to be a challenge?"

He called the waitress.

Another hour later, Severus Snape was almost glad when he heard the famous call "time gentlemen please!" announcing that the bar would no longer serve drinks. Drinking whisky with a true Scotswoman was not a good idea when one already was in a sentimental mood. Luckily they had only talked about safe issues during the last sixty minutes.

These safe issues had included Severus's new personal house-elf Tibby ("I keep telling you, I never wanted my personal elf. I have no need for one." – "Nobody _needs_ a servant, Severus. But you are doing the poor creature a favour."), their common dislike for Goldilocks ("That man dared to tell me that he was an Animagus, too. A lion! Claims he never transforms into animal shape because he is not registered and does not want the Ministry to catch him."), and Sybill's latest prophecy that the Potter boy was doomed to die soon ("Utterly ridiculous! Bad weeds grow tall." – "There are no bad weeds in Gryffindor House! Now, Slytherin…").

It had been quite an enjoyable conversation (and the whisky was not too bad, either). Finally they paid the waitress and left the pub. Severus had to give Minerva credit for not at once complaining about the cold. They quickly walked on, searching for either the next underground station or a cab. At one point, Minerva looked around and, seeing that there were no Muggles in the proximity, pulled her wand out of her sleeve and quickly performed a Heating Charm. It felt like a soft, warm wind around them. Minerva relaxed visibly.

"That is better," she sighed. "Muggle garments. I will never get used to them. How do they avoid freezing to death?"

"For the most part I think they avoid wearing light summer clothes in winter."

"Are my clothes that unsuitable? Charity said they would look fine for going out – to an art show, you know."

"Don't worry; you do look like a Muggle woman. It is unusual to see you without proper robes and a heavy cloak, but actually these garments do look quite good on you."

He saw the surprised look on her face and quickly added, "Slytherin colours. You ought to wear green and black more often. Preferably for the Quidditch matches."

She laughed softly.

"You are impossible, Severus," she said almost affectionately.

He still found it quite amazing how she apparently felt at ease in his presence, especially when taking in account what he had told her earlier that evening. Now that she was protected from the cold, Minerva had actually stopped walking and looked curiously at the city lights and the Muggle advertisements all around them. She was definitely not in a hurry to get back to Hogwarts.

"Their names were Harris and Dolohov – not Antonin Dolohov who is in Azkaban, but his cousin Milan," Severus said slowly.

Minerva turned around and looked at him. Her serious expression showed him that she had immediately understood that he was talking about his victims.

"You don't need to tell me about it," she said softly.

Severus shook his head. If this woman truly wanted to be his friend then he needed her to know about the things that haunted him.

"Harris was one of the first to become a disciple of the Dark Lord," he went on. "He did not want to see half-bloods like me in the Dark Lord's inner circle, so he challenged me to duel him."

Severus did not say that he could have avoided killing Harris during that fight. Minerva knew enough about duelling to make that out. He saw her nod; her face now wearing an anxious expression.

"Milan Dolohov saw me at the Potter's house, after I had found – them. It was only minutes after Hagrid had taken the boy away. Dolohov accused me of aiding Hagrid and attacked me."

Minerva nodded again. She looked pale, but made an attempt to smile.

"Sounds like you did not have much of a choice on that occasion," she said.

"One always has a choice," he answered harshly.

She sighed heavily and looked at him. Then she shook her head, in the manner of one trying not to think of something particularly unpleasant.

"Well, I always suspected something like this. It is not for me to forgive these deeds."

She came closer and looked him straight in the eyes. Just for one second, she put her hand on his cheek and stroked it softly. Severus almost recoiled from her gentle touch.

"Never forgot who you once were, Severus. Never. But also bear in mind that you are not that man any more."

He looked at her for a long moment, hardly daring to believe that she still had not turned away from him. Minerva smiled uneasily.

"Can we go on now?" she asked hesitantly. "That Heating Charm is wearing off."

Severus understood that she simply tried to make the moment less uncomfortable; tried to give him something else to speak about.

"Of course," he said. "We should go and find a cab for the way back to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Good idea."

They went on in silence and quickly found a cab on the next broad street. In spite of her earlier enthusiasm Minerva eyed black car with a considerable amount of distrust before getting in. Fuel-powered automobiles definitely were a means of transportation Minerva McGonagall was not used to. When they got off on Charing Cross Road near the Leaky Cauldron, she appeared to be relieved. Usually Severus would have teased her about it, but now he did not bother.

There were only very few customers in the wizard pub. Tom the barman greeted them with a casual wave and they flooed back to Hogwarts. Dumbledore's office still was empty. Minerva placed the document binder with Martin Migg's report on the Headmaster's desk and they put the rest of their Muggle money back in the envelope.

Severus took his warm Muggle coat off and looked at Minerva. She smiled again; still a little uneasy, but it was a genuine smile.

"This may sound a bit strange after that last bit of conversation," she said, "but I enjoyed this evening."

"So did I," he replied. "Surprisingly enough."

Her smile broadened. They left the office and went down the narrow spiral staircase. The stone gargoyle swung aside and then closed the office door behind them once they had passed it. The corridor appeared deserted, even the light was dim and the pictures on the walls were snoring loudly.

"I am looking forward to breakfast tomorrow. Certainly Lockhart will be _delighted_ to hear that you invited me to a lovely dinner – and in such a romantic riverside location."

"It was hardly an invitation since I used Dumbledore's money. And you have a wicked sense of humour, Minerva."

"I have no idea what you are talking about. Goodnight, Severus," she said. "Thanks for coming along. And thank you for – you know."

"Goodnight," he replied, choosing to make no further comment on the other subject.

She turned around and walked away from him. Severus's eyes followed her while he thought once more that these Muggle clothes really did not look too bad. The Head of Gryffindor was a remarkable woman. She was a powerful witch, intelligent, and at times malevolently witty.

"Minerva?" he called her back.

"Yes?"

She stopped and turned around.

"Going out habitually to kill old ladies in their beds?"

"It was the worst thing I could think of right away," she said without batting an eyelid. "Maybe I should also have mentioned kicking puppy dogs and making first-years cry."

"First-years are too easy, that does not count as proper evilness. Now sixth and seventh-years, they can be tough."

"And you're the one accusing me of possessing a wicked sense of humour," Minerva answered; now laughing softly. "It appears the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor do have at least one thing in common."

"Oh, more than one thing, I should say," a jolly, female voice answered.

Severus looked around and finally detected the source of the voice. Aurora Sinistra was standing on the head of the stairs leading up to this corridor. Several other staff members were also standing or sitting on the stairs – in the dim light he could make out Filius, Pomona, Poppy, and even old Cuthbert Binns floating in the background.

"Aurora?" he said scathingly, "Should you not be somewhere on the Astronomy Tower, gazing at the stars?"

"As our dear Sybill would put it, the stars have retreated behind a mysterious wall of clouds," the Astronomy Professor replied cheerfully. "I would call it a raging snowstorm. Besides, it appears that tonight the more interesting events are taking place down here on good old earth."


	9. Folie à Deux

**Chapter 9 –**** Folie à Deux **

_**(Aurora Sinistra POV)**_

Aurora Sinistra was in a bad mood already. There were several reasons why she disliked Saturday evenings in general, and this one very much in particular.

First of all, it was _Saturday_ – a day any good-looking young witch ought to enjoy by going out with some hot warlock. But ever since Aurora had broken up with Lorcan d'Eath (_months_ ago – he really had been a disappointment, all those romantic songs were written by his manager and Lorcan even had difficulties remembering the lyrics) she had not had a single date. By now she felt so desperate that she would even consider going out with a squib instead of that hot warlock of her dreams.

In consequence, Aurora had just spent yet another Saturday evening by preparing her classes for the coming week – which happened to be the second reason why the Hogwarts Astronomy Professor was in a bad mood. This was not the best season for her subject.

In all honesty, the weather was horrible. Naturally she had known about the weather conditions when she had applied for the job. This was Scotland, after all. One expected the sky to be clouded on a regular base. What one did not expect was a nasty snowstorm in mid-March. Never mind everyone telling Aurora that this particularly cold winter of 1991/1992 was oh-so-beautiful, and did you see those stunning ice crystals in the forest? And the Hogwarts Lake, it's still frozen and we can go ice-skating…

To Aurora winter meant that the Astronomy Tower was covered in ice and snow, that half of her classes had to be cancelled because it was too unsafe to enter the platform, and that observing the stars was pointless because the sky only presented grey clouds anyway.

She had tried. Aurora had made an effort to de-ice the telescopes, to get the snow off the tower ramparts and to create a protective shield against the worst wind. Needless to say, it all had been in vain. Aurora was a theoretician, someone who studied the sciences but who did not need to employ powerful charms in daily life.

Basically the result of her efforts was that she had only prepared another round of dull theory lessons for her students, that her fingers were frozen stiff and that she felt as though she was catching a cold from spending way too much time outside on that blasted tower. And all of that on a Saturday evening when she ought to be in a night club in London or at least Manchester, dancing to the tunes of the Weird Sisters and drinking a little too much. Life was not fair!

It was about twenty minutes past eleven. Aurora sighed heavily and decided to go down to the staff room and drink some hot chocolate there. With some luck, Filius or Minerva would still be there and she could at least have a nice chat before turning in. No, wait… Minerva was in London tonight, doing that errand for Dumbledore. Well, it did not matter. Aurora just wanted to sit by some fire place and talk to _someone_. Anything was better than staying in her own quarters and feeling miserable.

The Astronomy Professor descended from her office rooms and entered the main building of the castle on the seventh floor. She walked through the long corridor, occasionally returning a greeting from one of the pictures on the wall. At the head of the main stairs she met Cuthbert Binns who was hovering over the steps.

"Good evening, my dear Aurora," he greeted her with his usual, old-fashioned politeness.

"Good evening, Cuthbert," she replied. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

"I was hoping to meet Minerva upon her return from London," the ghost explained. "From what I understand, she was to meet a historian there. Doubtlessly she will have enjoyed a most interesting discussion about the improbability of certain myths… I confess being somewhat excited to hear what she has found out."

"You certainly sound excited," Aurora said dryly.

Cuthbert had sounded no less boring than at any other time when she had spoken to him, but in fact he nodded eagerly – well, he did bow his head about one inch.

"I am," he declared gravely. "One never ought to underestimate the thrill of historical studies. From what I have gathered, even young Filius wants to speak to our Deputy Headmistress right away. I do hope that historian – Muggs was his name, wasn't it? – has done proper research."

Aurora grinned openly. Her mood was rapidly improving. _Young_ Filius was only about twenty years younger than Cuthbert; with the minor difference that the History Professor had died almost fifty years ago while the Charms Professor still was alive and shockingly healthy. Probably it was that dash of goblin blood in his veins.

Another interesting fact was that Filius appeared to be interested in seeing Minerva shortly after her return from London. Not that this was all that odd, the two Heads of Houses were good friends. But Filius did not care the least bit about history, in fact he had more than once called it the most boring subject the Hogwarts students had to endure. If he had told Cuthbert that he was interested in Miggs's findings, that did certainly smell of a white lie.

"Then why are you here, Cuthbert? Instead of waiting downstairs in the Entrance Hall?"

"I expect Minerva and Severus will return form this exciting adventure via the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore did tell them to floo from there, so I assumed they would take the same route _en rentrer_."

"Did you just say Minerva and Severus? I thought Charity was going along to this London field trip."

"Apparently our Professor for Muggle Studies is too ill to go out. Albus has assigned Severus to go instead."

A most interesting development. Aurora grinned again. She could now easily understand Filius's desire to see the other two Heads of Houses return. Actually, she herself might linger a little bit longer here on the steps, just to see what might happen…

"Dumbledore forced Minerva and Severus to go to London together, and they have not yet returned? Dear Merlin, they probably have killed each other by now."

"That, or… I don't know. It might be worthwhile seeing what state they will return in," Pomona Sprout called from the stairs.

She and Filius were quickly climbing up the steps, both panting slightly.

"They haven't yet arrived, have they?" Filius asked.

"Don't think so. At least I've seen no one on that corridor, and I suppose Minerva would go straight from the office to the Gryffindor Tower."

"Excellent." Pomona allowed herself to drop down on the stairs and leaned against the railing. "Why does this castle have to have so many stairs?"

"Well, you did not have to climb up here, did you?" Filius replied, smiling gently.

"Don't you tell me what I have to do. I kept travelling from my House's common room in the cellar to Gryffindor Tower and back. I'm telling you, I will never again watch two Houses after a Hogsmeade weekend. _Never!_ That Lee Jordan has bought this little device in Zonko's – I don't know what it is but it sure is loud and hides when you try to summon it… And after all that exhausting work I have certainly deserved one good laugh."

"So what is your excuse for lingering here on the stairs, Filius?" Aurora asked.

"I kept an eye on Slytherin House tonight and want to report to Severus right away," the old Head of Ravenclaw said smoothly.

"A likely story," another voice answered from the stairs. Poppy Pomfrey had joined them.

"Thank Merlin I decided to leave my quarters for some chocolate," Aurora said. "Seems that the head of the stairs opposite the entrance to Dumbledore's office tonight is The Chic Place to hang out."

"Naturally, I came here purely out of concern," Poppy explained with elaborate gestures. "These two on a mission together, both reluctant to go and both not exactly known for their patience with the other one – one or both might be seriously hurt."

"An excellent point," Cuthbert agreed.

"Do you really think so?" Aurora asked sceptically.

"Of course. Minerva is my friend. I am worried," Poppy declared.

"Poppy?" Pomona asked sweetly. "Why aren't you carrying your medical bag?"

"Oh, just shut up!"

Pomona laughed wholeheartedly, with Aurora joining in. This whole scene was getting funnier with every second.

"Why don't we all stop pretending," Pomona finally suggested. "I do think we all have the very same reason for – what did you just call it, Aurora? Hanging out in this chic place?"

Aurora nodded, so did Poppy and Filius. Cuthbert's face was blank.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," he said seriously.

"We just want to see what state our two resident love-birds return in," the school nurse explained.

"Love-birds?"

Cuthbert obviously had no idea what she was talking about.

"Merlin, Cuthbert, don't you ever listen to school gossip?"

"Definitely not," the ghost answered indignantly.

"Well, to be brief about it…" Aurora tried to summarise the events of the past few weeks. "Severus kissed Minerva on Valentine's Day. Or the other way round, it depends on who is telling the story. Both claim it only was play-acting because… whatever. And ever since that happened, the Wars of the Serpent and the Lion have been reduced to a _very_ awkward armistice."

"And now Dumbledore has basically forced them to go out together. The interesting detail here is that they could have been back hours ago. So either they are busy renewing their passionate enmity, or…" Pomona grinned and wriggled her eyebrows.

"You don't seriously suggest that these two young people would be… love-birds?" Cuthbert asked.

"I agree that this particular description sounds horrible," Poppy said. "I cannot picture them as birds. I mean, yes, Severus does sometimes appear like a cross between a vulture and a bat, and Minerva has those sharp eagle-eyes… but _love-birds_?"

"Well, then what term do you suggest? 'Star-crossed lovers,' maybe?"

"Let's hope it won't come to that," Aurora said. "Even if Slytherin and Gryffindor traditionally behave like Montague and Capulet."

"What time is it?" Filius asked.

"About eleven thirty-five."

"My, they are past curfew already. Unless they stopped at the Leaky Cauldron, Tom has a late licence."

"Don't think so. Goldilocks is in Diagon Alley tonight. Severus has made it a point not to go near that man if he can avoid it."

"So we are expecting them back soon?"

"That means we ought to get the betting pool started," Poppy said.

"What?"

"Excellent idea!"

Aurora let herself drop to the floor, crying with mirth. This Saturday evening was turning out to be one of the best in her life. (Which was rather sad, when you came to think about it. As though she had no life of her own. But she would not think about that now.)

"Okay…" she said. "One Galleon that they will curse each other when they leave the office."

"One Galleon that they will kiss again," Pomona cheerfully replied.

"No, not here where everyone could see them," Filius pondered.

"You're right, we ought to dim the lights!"

Pomona waved her wand and extinguished most of the lights along the corridor. Some of the portraits on the walls protested loudly. In fact Aurora saw that the pictures appeared unnaturally crowded. The large oil painting of two wizards playing draughts was now filled with spectators; most of whom did not even bother to look at the black-and-white board but gazed out of the picture frame instead.

"One Galleon that they will be unusually friendly to each other, but will not make any romantic gestures," the Head of Ravenclaw finally decided.

"One Gallon that they will be friendly," Poppy said, "but will then start an argument before saying goodnight."

"One Galleon that this is nonsense," old Cuthbert Binns declared. "These two are serious scholars. Naturally, they will only talk about the meeting with Muggs."

"You can't bet with us," Pomona complained. "What does a ghost do with money? Do you actually have any?"

"I happen to own quite a bit of gold," the ghost snapped. "Just because I have no earthly needs any more –"

"Shut up, I think I heard a noise behind that gargoyle," Poppy hissed.

"Alright, quiet everyone! – Cuthbert, would you mind not glowing so brightly?"

"Aurora, I must say! This ectoplasm body is not equipped with a dimmer."

They all went a few steps down, so that they could still see the corridor but were less noticeable themselves. Grudgingly, the History Professor retreated even further and hid half-heartedly behind a wall hanging.

The stone gargoyle swung aside. Aurora held her breath, trying to make as little noise as possible. Even the pictures on the walls had stopped their chattering. Some of them were snoring in an exaggerated way.

Minerva and Severus stepped into the corridor; the Head of Gryffindor still wearing her Muggle coat. A mischievous smile appeared on her face.

"I am looking forward to breakfast tomorrow. Certainly Lockhart will be _delighted_ to hear that you invited me to a lovely dinner – and in such a romantic riverside location," she said.

"Ha!" Pomona muttered under her breath.

"It was hardly an invitation since I used Dumbledore's money. And you have a wicked sense of humour, Minerva," Severus replied.

"Too early for a kiss," Filius whispered. "Friendly, but not romantic."

Aurora was not too sure about that. Friendly… yes. She had definitely lost her bet. But Severus's voice had been more than just friendly. He had almost sounded affectionate – if that was possible with Severus Snape.

"I have no idea what you are talking about. Goodnight, Severus," Minerva said. "Thanks for coming along. And thank you for – you know."

"Goodnight."

Minerva turned away from him and started walking in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. The Potions Master remained standing outside Dumbledore's office and watched her go away.

"Thanks for _what_?" Pomona complained. "It does sound like something important happened tonight. Couldn't she be more specific?"

"Keep your voice down," Aurora hissed. "This is not over yet. Will you look at that?"

"Hardly believable," Cuthbert whispered. He had floated closer to them again.

"Incredible. Absolutely incredible," Poppy whispered. "Severus Snape with a starry-eyed expression on his face."

"That I should live to see that day…"

"Cuthbert, I hate to break the news to you, but you are dead already."

In the meanwhile, Severus had called Minerva once more and she had turned around.

"Going out habitually to kill old ladies in their beds?" he asked in disbelief.

Aurora frowned. She had no idea what this could be all about. Minerva's expression remained stoical.

"It was the worst thing I could think of right away. Maybe I should also have mentioned kicking puppy dogs and making first-years cry," she replied.

"First-years are too easy, that does not count as proper evilness. Now sixth and seventh-years, they can be tough."

Aurora looked at Poppy again, who was eagerly watching the couple in the corridor.

"Isn't that sweet?" the Herbology Professor said. "He _almost smiled_. And Minerva is actually laughing."

"But I wonder what they are talking about?" Filius said. "Someone will have to ask them."

"Is that a dare?" Poppy retorted.

"And you're the one accusing me of possessing a wicked sense of humour. It appears the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor do have at least one thing in common," Minerva stated in the meanwhile.

Aurora decided to find out what this was all about.

"Oh, more than one thing, I should say," she said while standing up and stepping out of her hiding place.

Severus spotted her immediately and put on his best sneer.

"Aurora?" he said, "Should you not be somewhere on the Astronomy Tower, gazing at the stars?"

"As our dear Sybill would put it, the stars have retreated behind a mysterious wall of clouds. I would call it a raging snowstorm. Besides, it appears that tonight the more interesting events are taking place down here on good old earth," Aurora explained.

"Is that so?" Minerva replied coldly. "May I inquire what you all are doing here?"

"Let's see…" Poppy said. "Cuthbert wants to ask you about your meeting with Miggs. Pomona, I am sure, only wants to report how your Gryffindors have misbehaved during the evening. Filius wishes to report the same about the Slytherins. Aurora appears to have run into us by pure chance."

"And you?" Severus asked sardonically.

"Just happened to stroll by."

"Actually," Aurora said, "we wanted to know if you enjoyed your evening in London. But that killing-old-ladies-thing you just spoke about, that does sound interesting, too."

"Just a discussion about evil in general. Not that it would concern you in any way," Minerva said disdainfully.

"Ah, yes. A very popular topic on a first date, I am sure," Pomona commented.

"I do seem to recall telling you – several times, in fact – that this was not a date."

"Indeed, the very idea is ridiculous," Severus added.

"You know, lad," Filius said slowly, "I don't want to talk you into something here, but you have noticed that Minerva is quite an attractive woman, haven't you? Dismissing this idea as _ridiculous_ is somewhat insulting."

"I think I can very well decide for myself what I consider insulting," Minerva snapped.

"Now, Minerva, don't defend him. He ought to say _nicer_ things to you."

Aurora looked from Minerva to Severus, trying hard to fight back a laughing fit. She had hardly ever seen two people so enraged and yet so helpless. They even looked a bit alike, tall, pale, and dark-haired, and both with that expression of cold fury on their faces. Aurora knew she and the other teachers would regret this scene (more likely sooner than later), but just for once it was great to see these two outwitted.

"And what would you have me say?" Severus suddenly asked in that very low, cold voice that usually was a foreboding of hell breaking loose. "Declare my true undying love and buried passion for a _Gryffindor_? Confess, possibly, that I am consumed with secret wanting for my former teacher who I have always clandestinely, yet desperately adored?"

Aurora checked whether she was carrying her wand, just to be safe. Poppy was right, Severus was certainly not know for his patience; and the anger and aggression in his voice were a definite signal that he was _that _close to loosing his temper.

She was not the only one to have recognised Severus's frame of mind. A stunned silence had followed his words, and Poppy exchanged one uncomfortable look with Minerva. Then Pomona Sprout furrowed her brow and spoke up.

"You might want to work on that tone of voice," she said with a big smile. "Now if you could repeat it with less contempt – and without the question marks – this would make a beautiful speech."

At this point Aurora Sinistra decided that the Head of Hufflepuff House was the bravest witch she had ever met.

The look on the Potion Master's face was priceless. True, he looked more furious that Aurora had _ever_ seen him, but apparently he was, for once in his life, speechless. Why had that Creevy boy gotten petrified with his camera stuck in his hands? Aurora would have given anything for that camera now. This expression was something worth documenting for future generations.

"Aren't you Hufflepuffs supposed to be the nice and friendly ones?" Minerva cut in.

The look on her face was not bad, either. She was clearly torn between denying any romantic involvement with Severus, helping the Slytherin Head and quite openly laughing about him – at least the twitching corners of her mouth indicated that she was considering the latter option.

"Young lady," Cuthbert declared gravely while floating forward. "This is not a laughing matter. Until tonight I was not aware of this new development, but must say that I whole-heartedly welcome your decision. The Houses of Slytherin and Gryffindor have feuded for too long."

"Cuthbert," Minerva hissed, "there is no – _development_."

"Based on almost two centuries of life experience, I should certainly say that there is. The way you two are acting speaks for itself – and did you not just mention a romantic dinner? Now, dear Minerva, I do expect you to behave properly, is that understood? A meaningful relationship is quite a responsibility. I trust that you are not one of those superficial young people who embark on affairs; indeed, matrimony is a very desirable state…" the old ghost droned on.

Aurora had clutched the railing of the stairs and held on to it for dear life, knowing that she would otherwise collapse with laughter, roll down the steps, and break her neck. She was laughing so hard that it hurt. Wasn't there this old story of an old Lord or something who had suffocated in a laughing fit? This was what it must have felt like for him.

Pomona and Poppy held on to each other, Poppy giggling like a school-girl, Pomona laughing out loud with tears running down her face. Filius stood next to them, sniggering in a not very gentlemanly way. Old Cuthbert had now left a stunned Minerva and started lecturing Severus about proper behaviour during courtship.

"Merlin," Poppy gasped between laughs, "I had no idea old Cuthbert could be funny…"

"I don't think he is," Aurora replied while wiping tears of mirth from her face. "I mean, yes he is, but I don't think he intends to be. Look at him, he _means_ what he is saying…"

All four of them looked at the ghost and immediately started giggling again. Minerva and Severus exchanged a helpless look.

"They are mad, Severus," Minerva said weakly. "All of them. Utterly mad. Zonko's must have a new product that causes temporary insanity…"

"Let us _hope_ it is temporary," he replied tersely.

"We'd be barmy if we had not picked up certain things," Poppy grinned. "Look, I've hardly ever seen two people so obviously in love and so obviously fighting it."

"Oh yes," Aurora agreed. "If anyone is mad around here, it's these two. Denying this – what did Cuthbert call it, development? –is just crazy."

"Isn't that a medical condition, Poppy? When two crazy people get all worked up believing the same nonsense?" Pomona giggled.

"That's _Folie à Deux_ – a madness shared by two."

"Perfect. Yes, that's just what this is. They're mad to believe they are not in love."

Meanwhile, Cuthbert had finished lecturing the two Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor and had floated back to the other teachers.

"I doubt that they will have talked much to this Mr Muggs," he said earnestly. "Well, in that case I shall go on. I have lessons to prepare."

He drifted away from them, disappearing into the next wall.

"An excellent idea, Professor Binns," Minerva observed coldly. "Maybe the other staff members ought to do likewise."

"Now don't you dare pull rank on us!" Pomona shouted indignantly.

"I had not even considered that, but now that you mention it – an excellent idea," the Deputy Headmistress answered in a no-nonsense voice.

Aurora knew that the show was over. Both Minerva and Severus had recovered from their shock and now looked _extremely_ annoyed. They would not put up with their giggling colleagues for much longer.

"Alright, alright, I'm going," Aurora said.

"About time, too," Severus replied.

He looked at Minerva for just the briefest moment, both of them nodding. Then they both turned around and walked away in different directions; Minerva heading for the Gryffindor Tower and Severus to… wherever. Aurora suspected that he just wanted to avoid meeting anyone on his way to the dungeons and would take the most complicated detour possible.

She tugged at Pomona's shoulder. "Come on, let's go to the staff room and have some chocolate."

Still giggling and laughing, the four of them made their way downstairs.

"So who has won the bet now?" Aurora asked, still grinning.

She did not regret any more that she had stayed at Hogwarts on this particular Saturday evening.

* * *

_A/N: I have noticed something funny - this little fic here has a lot more hits than 'Goldilocks and the Four Heads of Houses', meaning that some people reading this story have not read the prequel. Folks, do go back and check out 'Goldilocks'. I think it is somewhat important for the character dynamics._

_Thanks for reading (and reviewing) - Frank_


	10. Moving On

**Chapter 10 - Moving On**

**_(Tibby POV)_**

Sunday morning. Tibby apparated in Professor Snape's quarters and looked around. It was quiet, and the door to her master's bedroom was closed. Most likely Master was still asleep.

The house-elf looked at the clock in the small living room and grinned – it was ten o'clock already. She still could not believe her luck. House-elves were supposed to get up _very_ early and prepare their masters' rooms for the day, but Tibby had soon found out that her new master preferred it altogether if she showed up late on the week-ends. The later, the better.

Master Snape was a night person. Even during weekdays he would often read or work in his laboratory until late in the night, and the best thing one could to in the mornings was to avoid him entirely. On the weekends he used the mornings to catch up on lacking sleep. Tibby was then not expected to light the fire in his bedroom, fetch him breakfast and the morning paper, or perform any of the tasks she had had with her former masters – the one thing Tibby was expected to do was leave him alone.

Naturally, Tibby enjoyed this new working style. It meant that _she_ got to sleep in on the weekends when the other elves had to get up. But Tibby also was an old-fashioned house-elf, and she took pride in her work. If Master Snape did not want her to wake him, that was alright. But she would never forget her tasks in his other rooms. With that living room full of books to be dusted and that crammed laboratory there was more than enough to do.

Now the small house-elf surveyed the room more closely. In actual fact it was uncharacteristically untidy. There were a few dirty foot-prints on the floor and then a pair of Master's black boots tossed to the side. A dark Muggle coat hung over the back of the old and threadbare settee, and there were several papers and a large, yellow-brownish envelope on the table. Next to the papers Tibby found an empty whisky glass.

For this time in the morning, it was unexpectedly warm in the room although the connecting door to Professor Snape's ever-cold office stood open. Tibby even found a few embers still glowing in the firebox, and most of the logs she had only yesterday stacked into the basket behind the settee were gone. Master must have spent the best part of the night awake.

She re-kindled the flames and watched the fire-salamanders appear on the burning logs. Tibby had never quite understood how they moved from one fireplace to another, but the small lizards immediately showed up when one lit a fire within Hogwarts. The red-hot creatures were very helpful. They spread the embers evenly and saw to it that the fires burned without emitting too much smoke.

Next, Tibby turned her attention to the papers on the table. There were a few of the magazines Master read regularly –_The Art of Defence_, _The Practical Potioneer_, and_ Philtre_ – and some parchments covered with Master Snape's handwriting. Also on the tabletop was one of Master's favourite and most valuable books, an ancient English edition of _The Book of Venoms_ by Magister Santes de Ardoynis. But all these documents were pushed to the side of the table. Prominently on top of the spread-out parchments was the old, worn envelope she had already noticed.

Tibby hesitated. She knew this envelope, although she did not know what it contained. In her very first week of working for the Head of Slytherin House she had cleaned the desk in his office – properly cleaned it, like any _good_ house-elf would do. And that had not been a good idea at all.

She was aware that most of the Hogwarts elves did not like working in the cool dungeons. Quite a few of them were afraid of the ill-tempered Potions Master, although no one could remember if he had ever harmed an elf. (Privately Tibby now thought that he would never hurt a helpless creature, but she was not entirely sure of it.) As a result, the elves did hurry with their tasks in his rooms, thereby not exactly coming up to the usual standard of their work. Professor Snape did not seem to mind. He preferred privacy over a spotlessly clean office.

Tibby, on the other had, had wanted to show him that she would work very hard because he had given her this second chance. She still had no idea why she had woken up in the hospital wing a few weeks ago, _drunk_ on some alcoholic beverage. It had been most embarrassing. But the Deputy Headmistress had kindly explained to all the house-elves that this had not been Tibby's mistake, that she had clearly been ordered to drink the alcohol – _not_ by dear and famous Professor Lockhart of course, but would Tibby not like to work for a new master instead, like Professor Snape for example?

Tibby suspected that it had in fact been Master Lockhart's orders, but that the Deputy Headmistress could not prove it. Professor Lockhart did not have a personal house-elf any more, she had seen to that. The elves now took turns to take care of his rooms (never the same elf for more than two days!) and Tibby was forbidden to ever go close to him again. She worked exclusively for Master Snape now, and she was glad that she had been given that chance. Most employers would have given clothes to a house-elf found drunk.

She had thus spent the first week of her new job cleaning every inch of Master's rooms. The classroom on the other side of the corridor had been fairly easy to do, even if the students sometimes created a formidable mess. Professor Snape's small living room, bedroom and bathroom were no problem either – only his office and his private laboratory were nightmare to clean. There were literally thousands of jars and glasses to be dusted, some of them leaking horrible fluids, and all of them containing slimy, nasty, and smelly things.

She had spent three days only doing the jars. Lastly, Tibby had wanted to clean Master's desk. She had taken out all the drawers, even the bottom right one that he kept locked. She had had no difficulties opening that drawer – if cleaning was a house-elf's designated job, he or she could easily overcome minor magical hindrances. She had realised her mistake only when Master Snape had entered his office and found Tibby with the old envelope she had just taken out of that drawer.

He had snatched the brown envelope away from her and then, for a few very long seconds, Tibby had understood why the other elves were afraid of him. But he had not punished her (she had later done that herself, with a hot fire-poker), instead he had only ordered her to never, _never ever_ touch that drawer or its contents again.

Now Tibby had a problem. She checked Professor Snape's office room and saw that the desk drawer stood open. She was not allowed – and thus unable – to open it any more, but if it already stood open she could certainly close it again. Technically it was possible for her to put that envelope back where it belonged. But that meant disobeying. She was not allowed to touch the mysterious envelope. Only, leaving it on the table also was an act of disobedience. After all it was her duty to tidy the room.

Tibby flapped her large ears excitedly. Maybe this was a test? Her old mistress in Bath had sometimes tested her by leaving food or money in a way that Tibby could have stolen it. Would her new master do something similar? Maybe he expected her to put the envelope away without looking at what it contained?

But Master Snape had so far not done anything like that. He was very clear and specific in his orders, and never left room for interpretation. These clothes in the room, for example – Master had explained to Tibby on her first day that any garment she found in his private quarters belonged to him only, and that she was specifically allowed to launder them or put them away. Any piece of clothing would only belong to her if she received it out of his hands. This was a precaution only few masters took, and it made life and work much easier for Tibby.

An employer who was so thoughtful was not likely to test his elves with something like this envelope dilemma. Also, Tibby thought, this envelope lay on the table as though Master had looked at its contents last night. She knew that he had gone to London on some task for Headmaster Dumbledore, and that he had returned quite late in the night. Whatever it was that this envelope contained, he had perused it during the hours of darkness. It seemed to be something that was important to him, and Tibby was very reluctant to touch something so valuable.

Tibby looked at the clock again. It was twenty minutes past ten now. Of course it was out of the question to wake Professor Snape, but maybe she could make him wake up by himself before she was to be finished with her duties… then she could ask him what he wanted her to do.

Grinning brightly, she darted into the laboratory and started rummaging for a broom, a bucked and a brush. Tibby was careful to create as much racket as possible. Eventually she set to her task of cleaning the footprints on the carpet away. She whistled a happy tune while scrubbing the floor with magical stain-remover, and once 'accidentally' let the broomstick fall so that it hit the fire-grate and made a loud, clanging noise.

Her tactic worked well. When she was on the second footprint she heard muffled sounds from the bedroom, and ultimately Master Snape opened the door. Although he looked pallid and tired he was fully clad as usual. Tibby immediately stopped whistling and tried to give the impression of being remorseful.

"It is only Tibby, Master," she explained urgently. "So sorry, Master, Tibby thinks you are upstairs for breakfast."

Master looked at her for a moment, torn between annoyance and exasperation.

"Didn't I tell you to take Sundays off?"

"Master only suggested Tibby should take free days. But Tibby is a good elf, Sir."

Master Snape mumbled something Tibby did not understand – the elf was sure that it was better that way – and then sighed.

"Alright, Tibby. If you insist on working you can take my clothes and clean them, and get me some tea."

He gestured to the boots in the corner and the coat. Tibby nodded eagerly.

"They are not for you to keep," the Potions Master repeated carefully, causing Tibby to smile brightly. She greatly enjoyed having a master who understood her needs.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

"What time is it?"

"Ten-thirty, Master."

"Dear Merlin."

Master staggered to his favourite arm-chair by the fireside and sat down. Tibby immediately fetched him some tea from the kitchens and a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ – taking pride in the fact that it took her less than a minute. She placed the newspaper over the envelope and flapped her ears again, as though she was very excited about something.

"Tibby must apologise, Master."

"Now what for?"

"Is house-elf's duty to tidy Master's rooms before Sir wakes up. But Tibby has not yet cleaned the table."

"That's alright," he sighed. "You can do that later."

That did not help much. Tibby nodded and left him alone. She knew by now that he did not like company in the mornings, so she went to check if anything needed to be done in the bedroom and bathroom. Hopefully Master would detect the envelope when picking up the newspaper, and would then put it away himself.

She was done with putting fresh towels in the bathroom when she heard someone knocking on Professor Snape's door. Tibby rushed to answer the door and opened it just a second before Master could have done it.

Outside stood Professor Flitwick. Tibby beamed at the old wizard. She liked the head of Ravenclaw House a lot, partly because he was so small. His size made him less intimidating to house-elves.

"Good morning, Severus," the old man said politely, "And good morning – Tibby, is it?"

"Yes, Sir! Good morning, Sir!" Tibby squeaked delightedly while her master grumbled something that might pass for a greeting.

Professor Flitwick smiled at Tibby and then turned to Master Snape again.

"Severus," he said calmly, "I was wondering if I could have a word?"

"I cannot see how I could prevent that," Master replied sardonically, but he stepped aside to let the old wizard in.

Tibby closed the door behind him and looked at the Charms Professor.

"Would Sir like some tea?" she asked politely, pointing to the steaming teapot on the table.

"Yes, Tibby, that would be nice. If your master does not mind," Professor Flitwick replied.

Tibby's master shrugged and rolled his eyes, which she interpreted as 'yes'. She quickly apparated to the kitchens and fetched another cup. When she returned, the older wizard had already sat down on the settee and Master Snape occupied his armchair again. He put all the documents on table together in one pile to make room for Professor Flitwick's teacup.

"Would you put all these on my desk, Tibby?" he said. "And please put the book back on the shelf where it belongs."

Finally, these were clear orders. With the envelope hidden in the pile of other papers and magazines, Tibby took into the other room and put the stack on Master's table. Then she returned to the main room to put the book away. Professor Flitwick, who had been looking at it, gave it to her.

"_Opus de venenis_?" he asked Tibby's master.

"Yes. The English version, of course. I am unable to read the original."

"It is a shame we do not teach the old languages any more," Professor Flitwick sighed. "Latin, Gaelic, Old Greek and Renaissance Italian… these are fundamental to understanding certain charms."

"Or potions texts. But I seem to have managed so far."

Tibby could tell that Master was definitely in a bad mood this morning, and he was anything but happy that the Charms Professor had dropped by for an unexpected visit.

She quickly put the valuable tome on its shelf and then went back to Master's office. Tibby was certain that Master would not like her to go on scrubbing the floor while he talked with his guest, so she would get started with her work here in the office. Some of those disgusting jars needed dusting again, and that lamp above the desk could do with some cleaning, too.

In the meantime, the two wizards in the other room had fallen silent again. Tibby climbed on Master's desk and pushed the pile of papers to the edge, then she climbed on the stacked papers and stood on tip-toes. Balancing carefully, she was just able to reach the lamp and dust it. The uncomfortable silence in the other room went on for another few moments.

"Severus, I have come to apologise to you," Tibby then heard Professor Flitwick's voice from the other room.

She pricked her ears up while working on the lamp. This was getting interesting… Master did not reply, and after a few seconds the other Professor went on.

"Our behaviour last night was… childish and inappropriate. I do apologise for taking part in this."

Tibby almost lost her balance on the stack of papers because she had instinctively leaned to the door, trying to catch every word. Maybe this work was too dangerous to do while _accidentally_ overhearing a conversation.

She climbed down from the desk and put a light ladder against the storage rack on the wall. While she started dusting the top row of jars, Master finally answered.

"_Childish_ is just the word for it," Master Snape replied slowly.

Tibby grinned. Whatever this was about, her master was not going to make this easy for the Head of Ravenclaw. She went on with dusting the glasses, but was careful to be as quiet as possible.

"We got carried away," Master Flitwick said. "Although it seemed fun then, I can well imagine the situation must have been uncomfortable for you and Minerva."

Again, the Potions Master did not reply right away, but when he did answer Tibby knew that he was not very angry with the other teacher. Not any more, at least.

"My mistake," he said darkly. "I should have suggested another route for the way back. That kind of behaviour was to be expected from Pomona, or even Aurora – actually I am surprised that the Headmaster was not there for a good laugh. You and old Binns taking part in this scheme, that came unexpected."

"Dumbledore was away until very late in the night. And I must speak up in defence of Cuthbert – he has no sense of humour whatsoever; he believed what he was saying."

"Does that make it any better?"

Professor Flitwick laughed, apparently he had also understood that the younger man was not really angry any more.

"I suppose not," he said in a grandfatherly voice. "I shall go and explain the situation to him. What a shame, he was quite happy that this feud of Slytherin and Gryffindor had come to an end – and such a romantic one at that."

Tibby did not quite follow him there, and anyway she was distracted by the jars in front of her. That stuff inside the glass containers looked like frog-spawn, at least Tibby hoped that her guess was right. Some of those tiny egg-like things seemed to move around on their own accord.

"Never," Master declared in the other room. "The rivalry with Gryffindor House is the one thing that makes life in this school bearable."

"Is that so, Severus?" Professor Flitwick asked. "You know, that is a very sad thing to say."

Once more, Master Snape did not answer. This was truly an interesting conversation. He was rarely ever lost for words – Master always insulted someone, or made dry, sarcastic remarks, or shouted. If he now had to think before choosing the right words for his answer, then the Head of Ravenclaw House must have said something that troubled him more than he liked to show.

Tibby moved her ears forward again, but she could not catch a sound but the soft clinking of a teacup placed back on the saucer. She carefully climbed down from her ladder and sneaked closer to the door.

"Your apology is welcome and accepted," Master said after a while, sounding extraordinarily formal. "You should maybe go and speak to Minerva, too. I should think that she will be quite upset – more than I was."

"Naturally I have spoken to her already," Professor Flitwick protested. "It is good manners to go and talk to the lady first. But don't you change the subject, Severus."

"Is there anything special you are trying to tell me?"

Tibby had moved to a spot where she could see the men now. The Charms Professor was drinking more of his tea, while Master was watching him closely. Master Snape appeared to be very much on his guard, but not yet angry. Maybe.

"Nothing special, my lad. Thinking about this whole matter just made me realise what a lonely man you must be. And I wonder if you are lonely because you like it, or because you have forgotten that there are other ways to live –" the old wizard raised his hand and smiled when he saw the irritated expression on the younger man's face, "No, I don't want you to answer that one. Just think about it once in a while."

"You are doing an uncanny impression of our Headmaster," the Head of Slytherin said coldly, but he looked away from the other teacher while saying it.

"Forgive me. It must be a catching habit among old men."

"Forgive _me_ if I do not understand what message you are attempting to convey. Right after apologising for trying to force me into the most unlikely relationship ever, those hints seem… badly chosen."

The old Charms Professor laughed, merrily like a child who has just seen something comical.

"The most unlikely ever – with Lockhart here in the castle?"

"Don't try to be funny, Filius," Master Snape replied warningly.

"Then let me get back to my topic. Severus, I was a married man. Although my wife has now been dead for many years, I still miss her dearly, but life went on. I _know_ what it means to be lonely, and I also know that you deserve better. Love cannot be forced, so rest assured that I will not instruct you to start a relationship with our Deputy Headmistress – although I must say that you would make a lovely couple. No, all I am telling you is to consider that it might be time to move on."

"Move on from what?" Master Snape spat out.

Tibby tried to hide as well as possible. She could tell he was angry now, and she did not want him to discover her eavesdropping.

"I do not know, lad. Please do remember that we do not know anything of your personal life. All I can say is that life experience has taught me that no young man _chooses_ to be lonely and unhappy. At least no young man should."

The tiny Charms Professor put his teacup back on the table and jumped from his seat on the settee. Thankfully he stood with his back to Tibby and Master Snape was looking only at him, so she could go on watching them.

"I think I should better go now, Severus," the old man said. "I have to two boys due for detention in fifteen minutes. Thank you for the tea and – once more, my apologies."

Master got up from his seat as well and went to the door. He opened it, mumbling something about accepting the apology and so on – Tibby did not quite catch his meaning because suddenly she realised that Professor Flitwick smiled at her.

He had spotted her watching! Now she could only hope that he would not tell Master – Tibby knew for sure that she would be in _big _trouble if Master caught her after eavesdropping on such a personal exchange. She turned around and dashed to her ladder again when –

BANG! In her panic, Tibby had run head-long into the desk. Papers and bottles with foul-smelling potion samples fell on the floor and right on top of her. When Tibby opened her watering eyes, she saw that cursed brown envelope right in front of her – and to her horror, it had opened and its contents had slipped out of it.

The house-elf sat up slowly, clutching her hurting head. It felt as though she had a laceration somewhere there, but now there was no time for that. She had to find out which papers belonged into the envelope and replace them.

Tibby looked around. There were all kinds of parchments with Master's handwriting, and a few student essays partly hidden under _The Art of Defence_ – that certainly did not belong in the envelope. She quickly sorted through the papers and then found what she was looking for, instantly knowing that this must be the object Master had studied during the previous night.

There was a piece ripped out of a newspaper article, already old and crumbling. Only half of the headline was still there; it started with 'The Boy Who' and right under it there was a sub-heading, saying 'Parents James and Li'. But apparently Master had not kept this piece of paper because of the article. There was a photograph to go with the text, and it also was torn in two halves – the one Tibby could see showed a young, red-headed woman wearing a white dress and laughing happily.

Tibby carefully flattened the paper and put it back into the envelope. Then she looked around to see if there was more – and sure enough, there was another picture of the same woman, still a girl then and wearing the Hogwarts school uniform. Soon Tibby found a third picture, this one a motionless Muggle photograph. It showed a girl of maybe eleven or twelve years, together with a black-haired boy in ill-fitting Muggle clothes. Her vivid red hair was proof enough that this was the same girl as in the other pictures. Tibby did not know the boy, although he looked vaguely familiar.

"What are you doing there?" a cold, well-known voice asked behind her.

"Tibby is sorry!" she screeched in panic. "I knows Tibby is not to touch this! Tibby will punish herself, Tibby is so sorry –"

Without even looking at her master, Tibby stuffed the other two photographs into the envelope and started banging her head against the desk. More papers and vials fell down. It hurt terribly, but Tibby went on and on until Master snatched her by the scruff of the neck and forced her to stop.

"What on earth is that supposed to be?" he hissed. "Now sit still and tell me what happened."

"Tibby was listening," she said miserably. "And then Master Flitwick sees Tibby and I runs away, and into Master's desk, and the papers all fall down."

"Why did you look at them?"

"Tibby does not mean to, Sir, Tibby is sorry!"

Again she made to move for the desk, but he caught her and pinned her down with a rough curse.

"Photographs fall out of the envelope. Master must not have closed it properly last night. Tibby only wants to replace them. Tibby does not know what photographs mean."

"You do not know the girl in the pictures?"

"No, Sir," Tibby said quietly and held the envelope out for him to take. It now looked even more battered and worn.

"She is looking very pretty, Sir," she added, trying to say something nice.

"That she was," he replied absent-mindedly while examining the envelope.

"Was?"

"Was. She died eleven years ago."

"Tibby is sorry, Master."

"It was hardly your fault," he said harshly.

Tibby rubbed her hurting head. She felt even more wretched when she saw that there now was a fresh red stain on the brown paper her master was holding. She must have dripped blood on it while trying to punish herself.

"For that," she pointed to the envelope. "Tibby is sorry for that. Will get you a new one."

The wizard and the elf looked at each other for a few seconds. Tibby still had not quite figured out if she was in trouble, or if Master was angry about something else. Her head was spinning, and she felt faint.

"Sit here and wait," he suddenly said.

He put the envelope on his desk and walked out of the room. Tibby felt nauseous. A minute later Master returned with a cloth and a small bottle. He put some sharp-smelling liquid on the cloth and dabbed it on Tibby's head. The pain did not disappear, but grew better.

"This will stop the bleeding," he said. "Can you press that cloth to the wound?"

"Yes, Sir."

Tibby did as he said.

"You probably have a concussion. Listen, Tibby, I will take you to Madam Pomfrey right away, but there is one thing – two things – you have to promise me first."

"Master?"

"Never mention those photographs to anyone."

Tibby nodded. She had already guessed that.

"And never punish yourself again. If you think you deserve to be reprimanded, you are to come to me and tell me what you did wrong, and then I will decide on your punishment – believe me, I am good at that. You are not allowed to punish yourself – that is an order."

"Yes, Master," Tibby managed weakly.

She felt weak, but grateful at the same time. And she still felt terribly guilty about having seen the pictures.

"Tibby will replace the envelope," she promised. "Will get nice and new one for the photographs of the beautiful girl."

Master had in the meantime conjured up a small stretcher and levitated it next to Tibby.

"Get on the stretcher and lie still," he ordered. "I have to get you to the hospital wing."

Tibby did lie down. The pain in her head got a little better, but the floating sensation of the moving stretcher made her dizzy. She swallowed hard while Master levitated her to the fireplace and took the box of floo powder.

"Never mind the envelope," she heard him say while drifting out of consciousness. "Maybe Filius is right –"

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tibby had to stay in the hospital wing for one night only. When she returned to her working place on Monday, her master acted as though nothing had happened. Tibby was glad of it and went on with her cleaning work in the office.

It took her a few days to notice that the bottom right drawer of Master's desk was not locked any more. When she finally had the courage to open it, she found nothing but spare quills and a bottle of dark green ink. The pictures of the red-headed girl were gone. Tibby was certain that she would never see them again.

When Master happened to see Tibby cleaning that particular drawer, he smiled at her for just a second – a very rare thing to happen, and it was a strange, unhappy smile. Tibby had the impression that he was both sad and relieved, but she thought it wiser not to comment on that.


	11. Friday the Thirteenth

**Chapter 11 –**** Friday the Thirteenth**

_**(Sybill Trelawney POV)**_

Sybill Trelawney re-arranged her new scarf (violet with silver stars, _very_ classy) around her thin neck and looked around in the staff room. She was sitting at the end of the long, oval table and watched her colleagues take their seats. This evening was going to be an ordeal. She had planned on spending this Friday night alone in her comfortable tower room, probably doing some crystal gazing – on such nights, her Inner Eye was particularly sensitive.

The Headmaster had insisted that they would assemble tonight. Sybill hardly ever attended the regular, bi-weekly staff meetings, but even she was aware that today Dumbledore wished to discuss something important. First of all, this was not a regular evening for a meeting – and then the Headmaster had been adamant that Sybill, the librarian Irma Pince, and even Madam Pomfrey and Argus Filch would join the discussion. He truly wished for _everyone_ to be there.

Sybill had thus grudgingly complied and descended from her beloved North Tower into the world of the others. The very idea of this staff meeting caused her to worry – had the others not realised that today was _Friday the Thirteenth_? Nothing good could come from this. At least she had brought her Tarot Cards with her. Being able to see what disasters were about to happen would help Sybill cope with the future.

The Divination teacher shuffled her cards and then cut the deck before placing it on the table in front of her. She concentrated hard on reading the auras of the other persons present, but with all that blabbering and noise it was too hard. Dumbledore had already started talking about some squib called Martin Miggs and his theories. Filch sat up straight – naturally, the poor man was only too happy to hear that the great Albus Dumbledore would consider a hypothesis developed by a squib.

She listened only half-heartedly. Of course this was all about the monster that had lately taken to stalking Hogwarts – she had not even needed to read her tea leaves to predict that.

Sybill still felt a little angry about this whole Monster of Slytherin business. Right at the beginning of the year she had seen a most extraordinary and frightening vision in her crystal orb: a number of children, students presumably, hunted by the Grim. She had immediately informed the other teachers that she had seen _Death_, and what had they done?

They had _ignored_ her. Had laughed behind her back; had even made sarcastic comments about the quality of her premonitions, that is, _more sarcastic_ comments than usual. And now a real monster was crept through the corridors and had so far hurt two students and a ghost, but had anyone ever bothered to say 'Sorry, you were right'? – No, of course not.

Wearily, Sybill looked at the other teachers again and tried to listen. Apparently the Headmaster had sent his Deputy and Severus to go and research the Monster of Slytherin together with this Mr Miggs. Now they were discussing what animal exactly this monster could possibly be.

Minerva and Severus suggested that it might be some kind of dragon, although Dumbledore was hesitant to believe that. Filch kept going on about puddles of water and spiders – clearly, the gruff caretaker suspected that the Acromantula from the Forbidden Forest were responsible for the attacks.

"Not Aragog!" Hagrid exclaimed hotly. "He ne'er left his place in the forest! Them spiders don't like buildings and he'd not go back to the caste. An' I still think the dead roosters has somethin' to do with the attacks."

"Why is that, Hagrid?" Minerva asked.

Sybill frowned. The Deputy Headmistress always talked to the crude gamekeeper as though she valued his opinion. Heavens, the man was just a gamekeeper, not even a fully trained wizard! All Sybill ever received from Minerva were dry remarks about the accuracy of her predictions.

" 'cause it's always happened shortly before an attack, Professor," the gamekeeper replied.

Probably Hagrid's politeness was the reason why everyone always was nice to him. He had even been at school with Minerva McGonagall, but in public he always addressed the teachers with their proper title.

"_Before_, not during the attacks," Filius Flitwick said. "It may just be coincidence."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, but once more he did not seem quite convinced. He helped himself to a Chocolate Frog from a large box of sweets and then passed the box to his neighbour, Pomona Sprout. The Herbology Professor smiled and chose a handful of small, bright bonbons.

Sybill's thoughts wandered from the subject again. To be perfectly honest she did not fear the monster any more. Dear Gilderoy Lockhart had told her only last week that he knew exactly how to deal with it (in the unlikely case that it should ever show up again) and that he knew how to brew a Mandrake Potion that would revive the petrified students. He had radiated such good vibrations that she had immediately known she could rely on that.

Sybill thought it rather nice that the handsome Defence Professor did not boast about these things, in fact he had even told her that he would first allow Severus to concoct the potion and would only offer his assistance if it was _absolutely_ necessary. It was a nice gesture. Sybill knew from first-hand experience that Severus was easily offended, after all, why else would he constantly insult her and her art?

The meeting went on and on. Dozens of magical creatures were suggested as possible monsters, Hagrid and old Kettleburn recited what abilities those creatures had, and in the end they all agreed that the animal in question just did not have the means to petrify a person. It truly was a riddle. No known magical creature on earth had that ability. Only a witch or a wizard could petrify other beings.

At least they kept passing that box with sweets around the table. Sybill found out that the bright-coloured bonbons Pomona had chosen were tiny sugar Easter Eggs – really, Easter still was a month away! Dumbledore's obsession with sweets led him to ordering them inappropriately early. But the little sugar eggs literally sweetened her evening and Sybill kept some of them. Who knew for how long that discussion might go on... it was better to hoard some provisions.

While Sybill was munching her third Chocolate Cauldron (not the dark ones with Firewhisky, but the sweeter whole milk chocolate with sherry), the door to the staff room was thrown open and Gilderoy Lockhart came in. Sybill waved her hand to greet him and received that wonderful bright smile in return.

"Forgive me, my friends –" Gilderoy sat down next to Severus and leaned back lazily. "Actually I intended to be early; I am sure Aurora and Septima told me the staff meeting was to be at eight o'clock…"

He smiled again and brushed his golden locks out of his face with a casually elegant movement. Dumbledore eyed Aurora and Septima over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. Both looked innocent in a way that was highly suspicious. Pomona laughed.

"Doesn't matter, Gol-, erm, _Gilderoy_. Though you've missed most of the meeting, in fact I think we're almost through with it."

The Head of Hufflepuff House looked at the Headmaster, who nodded after he had averted his gaze from the two young teachers. Septima smiled and took a Chocolate Frog out of the box of sweets.

"What a shame. Is there anything left to discuss that I could help you with?"

"I think not, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said calmly. "My charming Deputy and Severus have, as you know, done some research on the matter of the Chamber of Secrets and we have only discussed the results. I am afraid we are not much wiser than before."

"Really?" Lockhart beamed and turned to Severus. "That sounds fascinating. You absolutely _must_ tell me about it."

The Potions Master wrinkled his nose. Sybill thought him most impolite. Gilderoy wasn't even acting flirtatious; obviously he was just trying to be friendly.

"I already have other plans for tonight," Severus replied coldly.

Dumbledore rose from his seat; indicating that the meeting was over. Several of the other teachers also got up from their chairs, including a Potions Master who seemed to be in a bit of a hurry. Septima reached for the last remaining Chocolate Frog.

"Who is on the card?" the Headmaster asked with a twinkle in his eyes. "My collection still lacks a few of the medieval witches."

Septima shook her head.

"Sorry, Dumbledore. It's Herpo the Foul again."

She discarded the card on the table and started to unwrap the chocolate.

Gilderoy had in the meantime caught Severus's arm, a fact that most of the other teachers had noticed – although they all were careful to pretend being interested in something else. Sybill also watched the two unlike wizards intensely.

Her new good friend Gilderoy had confessed to her just how much he liked Severus, and Sybill did not quite understand why the Head of Slytherin was so hostile towards Gilderoy. After all it was obvious that Severus liked men. Well, maybe not obvious, but a few years ago Sybill herself had been a little – _really just a little!_ – interested in getting to know him in a more personal way. She had dropped one or two very low-profile, ladylike hints and Severus had objected most strongly, even though there had been some mistletoe right above them.

"Just when I opened the door you were saying something about _dragons_, and how their eyes were their weak spots," the famous Defence teacher said. "Now I happen to know a bit about these little lizards, so why don't we go to the 'Three Broomsticks' and discuss them over a nice drink of Firewhiskey? – Surely you could cancel those other plans?"

Severus glared at the other man, who let eventually go of his arm. Sybill shook her head in disbelief. _Everyone_ knew that Gilderoy was an Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and that Severus had applied for the Defence Against the Dark Arts job every year. It was astonishing how he scorned Gilderoy's offer to share some experience.

"Surely not," Severus replied. "You see, every Friday night I play chess with Professor McGonagall. I would not wish to disappoint her."

Pomona, Aurora and Septima started giggling, and even on Minerva's face there was a small smile. Aurora whispered something into the Arithmancy Professor's ear and Septima laughed so much that she dropped her Chocolate Frog. Slightly squished, the frog landed on Sybill's collection of sugar Easter Eggs.

"Well, Minerva," Septima said once her laughing fit had subsided. "It is up to you then. Do you insist on your Friday night tradition or…"

Now even Minerva laughed a little, but Sybill barely registered it. Her eyes were fixed on the Chocolate Frog in front of her. All of a sudden, she felt focused and able to concentrate. She was going to have a vision.

Squished as it was, that frog now looked more like a toad. A toad, sitting on several eggs. It looked almost as though it was hatching a cockatrice, or a basilisk… and the card belonging to the frog had shown Herpo the Foul, the first known wizard to breed one of these creatures!

Sybill looked up excitedly. Now she wished that she had followed the discussion more closely. Had they already mentioned basilisks? Possibly she would make a fool of herself by suggesting that Slytherin's Monster could be the King of Serpents.

No one paid any attention to her, as usual. It was most annoying. Everyone in the room was looking at the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor, who were engaged in some silent battle of wills. Severus's expression conveyed a 'don't you dare'-message, while Minerva still smiled sweetly.

Sybill decided to make one final test. She picked one card of her tarot deck, utterly at random and without looking. With slightly trembling hands, she turned the card around and looked at it.

It was The World. The message was clear: fulfilment, personal realisation, success, involvement. She was on the right track. Also, Sybill remembered, in some tarot decks the wreath depicted on the card was replaced with an ouroborous or a basilisk.

"I know what kind of an animal Slytherin's Monster is!" she cried.

And finally, for once, everyone looked at Sybill Trelawney. The experience was somewhat uncanny, but she sat up straight and tried to speak with as much dignity as possible.

"It is a basilisk," she said. "Most snakes don't mind water, so it probably hides in the lake – that would explain the puddles in the corridors. And the cry of a rooster is fatal to the basilisk, that is why it kills them."

"Quite right," Gilderoy stated. "I have often thought so myself."

Sybill smiled at him. The Defence teacher was such a nice man. She would never understand why the rest of the staff treated him like an outcast – probably they just did not know how to deal with the presence of such a famous person. It was easier for Sybill, of course. Her great-great-grandmother Cassandra had been a celebrity, after all.

"I am sorry, Sybill, but you cannot possibly be right," Minerva contradicted him immediately.

"Why not? – The cards just confirmed it!"

The Deputy Headmistress raised her left eyebrow. Sybill hated her for that ability to radiate scepticism. Just because the gift of True Sight was rare one did not need to mock it.

"Because basilisks are extinct. We know they can become several hundred years old, but breeding them has been forbidden since the Middle Ages," Severus answered.

He clearly enjoyed opposing her and Gilderoy. It was just not fair. Sybill pointed to the Chocolate Frog that had given her the idea in the first place, but Severus ignored her.

"I think the last basilisk sighting was around four hundred years ago – who would _want_ to breed them, after all? Not even the Dark Lord did that even though he was a Parselmouth."

"Also," Filius said kindly, "the merpeople of the Great Lake would have reported to us if there was a basilisk hiding in their home. And I never heard of a basilisk that would seek out a rooster with the intention to kill it. They are not intelligent creatures, and the risk would be too high for them."

"But –" Sybill started to say, but then she thought better of it. These people would never listen to her. She was only weird Sybill Trelawney, the funny Divination instructor who believed in fate and prophecies. It was so depressing.

The other teachers had in the meanwhile turned to Gilderoy again. The handsome blond wizard looked very cross. Sybill felt sorry for him. Just because the other Professors envied his success they treated him no better than they treated Sybill herself. Maybe that was why they had recently become friends.

Severus had taken Minerva's chess set and set it out on the small table in front of the fireplace. He looked pointedly at the Deputy Headmistress. After a short moment, she nodded.

"Naturally I want to play," she said and settled down in the armchair closer by the hearth.

Gilderoy turned on the spot and left the staff room without another word. Dumbledore and a few of the other teachers followed him. Pomona laughed again. Sybill felt like looking for Gilderoy and comforting the poor man, but then she decided that she would stay. Everybody expected her to leave and spend the evening alone. She would show them all and stay here in the staff room.

Sybill chose an armchair close to the window. It was colder there, but she could make use of the large windowsill to lay out her tarot cards. Maybe, if she concentrated hard enough, she would be able to read the cards for dear Gilderoy. He would surely appreciate if she told him about his future, just to show that someone in this castle cared for him.

The atmosphere in the staff room was quiet and relaxed. Filius was mostly hidden behind his newspaper, but also watched the chess game going on. Pomona and Rolanda had settled down and chatted amiably – something about the new grass they wanted to sow on the Quidditch pitch as soon as the rest of the snow would have melted. Septima, Charity and Aurora sat in the other corner of the room and were apparently taking a quiz from the latest edition of _CosmoWitch_. Whatever that quiz was about, it did definitely involve a lot of silly tittering.

Sybill was half-way through the process of reading the cards when Severus looked up from the chess board.

"Could you keep it down over there?" he asked irritably. "I am trying to concentrate here."

The three witches in the corner responded by giggling harder. The Potions Master sneered.

"Oh, come on, Severus," Aurora replied. "Why is it that men always get nervous when women start discussing articles from _Witch Weekly_ or _CosmoWitch_?"

"Maybe because you start acting like teenagers once you get one of those magazines in your hands – and Merlin knows we have enough silly girls in this castle already."

"Acting like teenagers?" Charity asked, pretending to be offended. "We are taking a psychological test here."

"Are you referring to '_Find out what your robe personality is?_' or to '_Is your wizard a dark mage in bed?_'" Filius quipped.

"The latter," Aurora deadpanned. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Filius, it'd be interesting to learn how _you_ know about these tests," Minerva said wryly. "I never even look at those magazines."

For the very first time, the Deputy Headmistress had said something Sybill could whole-heartedly agree to. She also never bothered to look at those witch magazines. They made you feel bad about not having a relationship, and tried to tell you to only buy the most expensive make-up. And the horoscopes were always done by _cretins_.

"I merely saw the magazine there when I picked up my _Daily Prophet_," Filius replied smoothly.

"Certainly," Septima said.

"Trust me, no man would ever read _Witch Weekly_," Severus defended the Ravenclaw Head. "Just the assumption that some witches actually _believe_ all that nonsense could make one renounce female company forever."

"Well, for you there's always Goldilocks to turn to," Aurora laughed. "Apparently he still has not yet given up."

"No need to remind me," Severus said darkly.

"Or you'd have to find a witch who honestly does not read suchlike magazines," Pomona said.

The comment earned her a piercing glance from Minerva, but she ignored her friend completely and turned back to Rolanda. Sybill frowned. Something was going on that she did not quite understand. No one in this castle ever bothered to tell her anything.

The Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor returned to their game, and Charity took the edition of _CosmoWitch_ from Aurora. The three witches continued to take the test, albeit with some less giggling. Sybill shuffled her cards again and decided to read Minerva's future instead of Gilderoy's. Maybe that would explain why the Transfiguration Professor apparently was angry with her good friend Pomona.

Although the other teachers now talked in low voices reading the Tarot Cards would be hard in such a crowded room. All their confusing emotions clouded Sybill's Inner Eye. She decided to do a simple 3-card spread first, instead of the Celtic Cross she usually preferred.

Sybill looked at Minerva and concentrated hard on what she knew about the Deputy Headmistress. Minerva still seemed somewhat cross and preoccupied, but she concentrated on the chess game now. With the last three moves she had beaten one of Severus's pawns and a rook; apparently she was launching a fierce attack.

Without looking at them Sybill picked the three required cards from her deck and put them on the windowsill. The 3-card spread was ridiculously easy; one only needed to relax and let the power of premonition take over while interpreting the message.

The Divination Professor closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then she looked at the cards she had laid out. The first card was The Emperor – a card that fit in perfectly with everything she knew about Minerva McGonagall. The Emperor stood for authority and structure, worldly power, some competitiveness, and self-control. Only powerful individuals like the Deputy Headmistress would receive this card as a description of their past.

The second card concerned the present. It was The Lovers, and it was reversed. This meant disharmony and indecisiveness, indicating some internal conflict and possibly romantic disturbances. Apparently there was something that troubled Minerva, and it did concern her emotions and her personal life.

The third and final card would show Minerva's future. Sybill turned it around and frowned. It was Death – or course that did not have to mean actual death, but it stood for major changes and the beginning of a new life. Very often the Death card implied that this new life was to begin after an abrupt change of circumstances, these being the result of underlying transformations and violent stuggle. Death following the reversed Lovers was a strong sign that something very emotional was going on, but it did not tell whether the changes to take place would be for the good or for the bad.

Sybill got up from her seat and went to the small table where the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor were still concentrating on their game. Many of the pieces were beaten now; it looked as though they were engaged in an actual war. Filius Flitwick had put his newspaper aside and watched the game.

"What do you want?" Severus asked after Sybill had watched for a few moves.

"Nothing in particular," she replied. "I have read the cards for Minerva, but I assume you would not care to be interrupted during such an _exciting_ game…"

"You assumed correctly," Minerva said, in a rather snappy way.

Sybill bit her lip. She had hoped for a more polite answer after her own quiet, unobtrusive approach. Luckily, Pomona Sprout decided to help her.

"Oh, _do_ tell!" the Herbology Professor cheered. "What did you find out?"

Severus and Minerva exchanged a look, both of them displaying annoyance. Sybill tried to evaluate the situation on the chess board. It was hard to tell who was in more trouble. Both the white and the black king were cornered by enemy pieces.

"It was a most interesting reading," she announced finally when she was certain that they had paused playing and listened to her. "You see, I used only three cards, picked totally at random, and all three of them were of the Major Arcana!"

"Is that so," Minerva said. She had raised her right eyebrow again.

"Yes, that is so," Sybill said testily. "The Major Arcana relates to matters of deep significance. Minor Arcana cards tell about everyday matters, but what I read about you concerns important issues."

No one replied, so she went on.

"I saw that while your past life was uneventful and content, you are deeply troubled now. There is something that confuses you, and you are emotional about it. Your future will bring about a sudden change after a violent struggle. It may involve strong emotions, or a victory, or death."

"But that is most interesting," Pomona said. "Exactly what I thought."

Sybill beamed at her. Hardly anyone in Hogwarts ever praised her work. Pomona's kind words made up for a lot of sarcastic comments she had heard in the past. They even made up for the fact that Minerva looked anything but happy about Sybill's precise reading. To tell the truth, Minerva looked quite furious – but then again, when did she not look angry once the topic of Divination was mentioned?

"Sybill, the next time when you make up a prophecy, could you at least try to be less obvious about inventing it all?" Severus asked acidly.

"I did not make up a thing! The cards-"

"You are, of course, aware that we are playing chess?"

"What does that have to do with Divination?"

"Let me see…" he said in a bored voice, "After a tiresome beginning – one might call it uneventful – this game has become quite a violent struggle, in fact I daresay that my opponent appears somewhat confused and emotional. I intend to win soon, which might count as a sudden change and will involve my victory and, metaphorically speaking, the death of Minerva's king. You did not read the cards, but you invented a story that would go with the present situation."

"Divination is not about such trivial matters as a game of chess," Sybill said haughtily. "Cards of the Minor Arcana might have referred so such everyday issues, but what I read does concern important matters."

"Chess is important to me," Minerva said coldly. "And if you don't mind I would like to continue playing now, just to prove to Severus that he is _not _about to win."

Sybill left in a huff and returned to her seat by the window. She would not put up with suchlike behaviour for much longer – maybe she ought to contact the Headmaster. Divination was an art form, in fact it was more than that, it was a gift and a blessing that ought to be respected by lesser talented witches and wizards.

Sulking, she stared out of the window. She was fully aware of the fact that the others expected her to leave, but she was not going to give them that satisfaction. It took her a while to realise that Filius and Pomona had started discussion both the chess game and her prediction. Sybill turned to look at them again.

"Of course, that prediction might have concerned chess in general, not the ongoing game," Filius said calmly.

"Then where is the violent struggle, or the abrupt change?" Pomona asked.

"There," Septima commented while Sybill heard one of the chess figures wailing loudly, apparently another piece had been beaten.

"For weeks now, they have played in an unusually defensive matter – we'll mark that as 'confused and emotional.' And now that game has become quite violent all of a sudden, as though the opponents needed to prove something. That's a change and –"

The Arithmancy teacher interrupted her speech when Minerva suddenly tipped her king over and stood up.

"I give up," she hissed. "Please do excuse me, I do not feel like playing any more."

"No offence taken," Severus replied. "I agree that playing in the staff room has become somewhat tiresome..."

He put the chess pieces back into their box while Minerva glared at Septima and Pomona.

"Just what is it with you?" she asked angrily. "Why does everyone feel this sudden need to interpret my way of playing? One week it's too defensive, then it is too aggressive – don't you have anything else to talk about?"

She did not wait for an answer but turned around and left the room. Pomona and Aurora smiled at each other. Another minute later, Severus also stood up from his seat and walked out of the door. Once he had left, Aurora started laughing. Once more, Sybill felt left out. She had absolutely no idea what this all was about.

"Someone is a bit touchy, isn't she?" Aurora chuckled.

"We ought to give them a break," Filius replied earnestly. "I agree that it _is _rather amusing to watch them, but we have to be careful not get carried away – like last week."

"You're right, they are both so terribly stubborn," Pomona said. "If we push them too hard there will be no results at all."

"That is not what I meant," the Head of Ravenclaw protested gently. "Whatever might or might not develop, it is not for us to get involved."

"With some luck," Pomona answered, "we won't be able to anyway. They're so annoyed with everyone watching them play – in the future they'll literally have to go get a room for themselves."

"Oooh, how nice," Septima said. She turned to look at Sybill and grinned. "Well done, Sybill. Great way to comment their game and imply a few other things… really, that was perfect!"

Sybill still had no idea what the Artihmancy Professor was speaking about, but she relished the praise. And anyway, she could always check her Crystal Ball to find out what had just taken place.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_A/N: Please do note that I have changed the rating of this story to a strong M; __as needed for later chapters._

_Frank_


	12. Observations of a Headmaster, Part One

**Chapter 12 – ****Observations of a Headmaster, Part One**

_**(Albus Dumbledore POV)**_

"… and then, would you believe it, I was surrounded by no less than five werewolves. _Five_! And some real wolves, too, but I did not count them. Oh, it was an extraordinary situation! Lesser wizards would have been afraid – even I, my dear friends, even I have to admit that I did not feel quite comfortable in that very moment," Gilderoy Lockhart declared.

Albus Dumbledore looked at his young Defence Professor and sighed inwardly. They were in the middle of a staff meeting, and Gilderoy had somehow managed to twist the routine report on his classes into one yet another Wild And Wonderful Tale Of The Amazing Accomplishments Of Gilderoy Lockhart.

They all had anticipated, nay, _feared_ that Gilderoy might launch another one of his monologues in the very second when the blond wizard had opened his mouth. Actually Albus had been at the point of shutting the young man up when the most unusual thing had happened: one of the staff members had asked Gilderoy a question. Now there was no way of stopping Gilderoy.

"… well, my esteemed fans – _colleagues_, I mean – you are naturally aware that I know a tiny little bit about the art of Transfiguration. So I decided to take on a wolf shape – alas, my Animagus form is a lion, so I could not make use of that – and that caused that pack of werewolves quite some confusion, I tell you!"

Albus shook his head. Of course he had noticed that Sybill Trelawney was Gilderoy's New Best Mate and Number One Fan, but he had not expected her to encourage him during staff meetings. For all the Headmaster knew Sybill _hated_ staff meetings. It was strange enough to see her here in this room, and even stranger that she would speak up in the one way that was guaranteed to make the discussion last even longer.

"So, then, my friends," Gilderoy said dramatically, "then I had to act quickly. For someone who has intensely studied Magical Creatures – like your's truly – the body language of a werewolf is, of course, easy to imitate. I growled and intimidated the alpha male, and the werewolves retreated by and by…"

Possibly this again had to do with poor Severus. The Headmaster knew that his Head of Slytherin House still was Gilderoy's major love interest – that is, love interest or maybe just… well, _interest_.

Sybill, bless her naïve heart, had apparently decided to aid her new friend Gilderoy there. At least she had today first picked a seat next to Severus and then given that very same seat up the minute Gilderoy had entered the room. And then she had provided Gilderoy with a chance to show off. The results of her certainly well-intended actions were:

a) A staff room full of annoyed and bored staff members,

b) Gilderoy standing only ten inches away from Severus, with ample opportunities to 'accidentally' touch the Potion Master's right shoulder while gesticulating to emphasize the finer points of his werewolf story, and

c) A Potions Master very close to loosing his temper. Or to setting up residence deep in the Forbidden Forest for the rest of the school year, no matter how close to the Acromantulas. Anyway, _very _close to either one of these options.

Albus considered offering Severus one of those Sweet Surprise Sherbets that he had bought in Hogsmeade, but then decided against it. For some reason Severus Snape did not share his passion for Muggle sweets, and thus it was unlikely that Albus could improve the younger man's mood that way.

"Gilderoy, would you mind telling us what that story has to do with your teaching?"

Albus suppressed a smile. There was not a single day when he did not feel grateful for the existence of his Deputy Headmistress. One could always rely on her to enforce the Hogwarts rules, especially the unwritten rules like 'Thou shalt not annoy thy colleagues.' Albus had heard Minerva take in a sharp breath when Gilderoy had mentioned his alleged Animagus form, and from that moment on he had not dared to look at his Deputy. One day she would kill (or at least seriously injure) someone with that glance.

"Ah, but I am so glad you asked, my dear Minerva!" Gilderoy beamed.

He used the moment for a dramatic pause, stopped his elaborate gesturing and actually let his hand rest on Severus's shoulder for two seconds. The Slytherin pressed his lips into a thin line, barely concealing his anger while he shrugged the hand off. Several of the teachers smirked, and Pomona Sprout coughed loudly in a vain attempt to mask her laughter.

"This story has _everything_ to do with the way I teach!" Gilderoy smiled. "Everything!"

"I can vividly imagine that," Aurora muttered.

"Maybe we could grant the children another Hogsmeade weekend, to make up for – things," Septima suggested, her eyes darting to Gilderoy.

Albus cleared his throat visibly and the teachers fell silent at once. (He did privately decide that the students might indeed enjoy an additional weekend in Hogsmeade, just to make up for – well, for being at school.)

"You, my dear friends," Gilderoy went on, "you have listened to this story with rapt attention. You will thus easily understand that it was the same when I told it to my students. Being children, they were even easier to impress – now, they will never forget that anecdote. They did not have to read in a boring school book, but _I myself_ told it to them! Never in their lifetime will they forget how to react to a pack of werewolves!"

The Defence Professor sat down and smiled at the rest of the staff. Albus sighed.

"Quite an interesting insight to your teaching methods, Gilderoy," he said slowly. "So let us protocol that you have spent the past two weeks teaching all your classes about werewolves. Now, I think we do have some other matters to discuss –"

Albus looked sternly at Sybill, who had already opened her mouth to say something else – whatever it was, he did not want to hear it. Gilderoy looked extremely pleased with himself.

He leaned closer to Severus and suggested in whispered words that they ought to discuss this werewolf story later, and in a more private room, he had heard that Severus had had an encounter with one of those creatures once…

… and apparently Gilderoy had also heard that Severus and Minerva had stopped their habit of playing chess every Friday night. Since that evening four weeks ago, when even Sybill had joined the circle of those analysing their playing patterns, they had not spent any leisure time together.

The Potions Master pretended not to have heard Gilderoy. Albus hurriedly started a discussion about their next agenda item. He managed to involve the Defence Professor in this debate about the acquisition of several new school owls.

It was only a trivial matter, really Albus had just brought it up to do his old friend Konrad Kettleburn a favour – the Professor for Care of Magical Creatures was always happy on those few occasions when his expertise was needed. During the short discussion, Albus noticed that Severus picked up a small piece of parchment and scribbled a few words onto it.

The Head of Slytherin House exchanged a look with the Head of Gryffindor House before he passed the note on to her, like a school boy in class. Unlike a school boy, he did not even attempt to conceal his action.

Minerva read the note and, for a very short moment, the corners of her mouth twitched upward as though she was hiding a smile. She nodded almost imperceivably and then wrote a short reply before passing the note back.

Gilderoy frowned. Albus continued his discussion with Konrad, but also continued to watch his two Heads of Houses. Severus appeared to ponder about some matter; then he decided on an answer and wrote it down.

This time, Minerva truly smiled when she read the answer. She looked at the Potions Master and mouthed 'alright.' The small piece of parchment remained on the table in front of her. Gilderoy Lockhart craned his neck in an attempt to decipher the exchanged messages.

After the question of the school owls had been settled (they would buy a dozen new ones, to be trained by Konrad and Hagrid) Albus broke the meeting up. He saw the Defence Professor lean forward, trying to snatch the note from Minerva's pile of parchments.

The Headmaster summoned the small note to himself.

"I do believe this is a private message," he said reproachfully.

Gilderoy muttered something, but Albus did not quite catch the meaning. He was too busy with a Muggle 'magic trick' that Martin Miggs had once taught him. Like all those Muggle games, it was ridiculously easy to do.

Albus took the note he had summoned, put it on his other papers, and dropped his wand. Everybody looked at the clattering wand on the floor and Pomona, who was standing closest to Albus, picked it up.

"Thank you, my dear," the Headmaster said gravely. "I do seem to be a bit clumsy today."

He had in the meantime crumpled another piece of parchment into a small ball and now made a big show of throwing it into the flames crackling in the open hearth.

"There, that went better," he said happily.

Gilderoy frowned and watched the piece of parchment burn. Minerva looked at Albus and granted him a very small smile. The dear girl had no idea that Albus had slid the real note into his left sleeve and had burned nothing but an old piece of spare parchment. It was amazing how easily a bunch of wizards could be fooled with those Muggle prestidigitator tricks.

Later, in his office, Albus took the note out of his sleeve and unfolded it. He was fully aware that this was indeed a private message but – he was the Headmaster, after all. It was his duty to know everything that went on in Hogwarts, especially when two teachers who had hardly talked to each other in the past four weeks were involved.

Albus chuckled merrily when he read the short exchange of messages, alternatively in Severus's and Minerva's handwritings:

_Chess later tonight?_

_With pleasure. __–__ Where, though? Your place or mine?_

_Mine. (No talking pictures.)_

This was an extraordinary development. For all Albus Dumbledore knew, his Potions Master had never before actually invited someone else into his private rooms.

Albus flicked his wand and the note crumbled to dust. He patted Fawkes and gave the large bird another piece of chicken bone while humming a cheerful little tune.


	13. Observations of a Headmaster, Part Two

**Chapter 12 – Observations of a Headmaster, Part ****Two**

_**(Albus Dumbledore POV)**_

Late in the night of May 8th, Albus Dumbledore made one last round through all the corridors of his beloved castle. He had cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself so that no one would pay any attention to him, and he tried to move as silently as possible. The corridors were literally swarming with people now that all of the staff members participated in the guard duties. The Professors, the Prefects, and some of the resident ghosts took turns in patrolling the corridors, aided by the pictures.

Sadly enough Albus had to make his staff members perform that task, now that this dreadful double attack had happened – and in bright daylight, too. After these two poor girls, Penelope Clearwater and Hermione Granger, had been petrified, it was only too obvious that the students needed more protection.

Immediately after finding the two girls they had decided on a few extra school rules. Students were now to be confined to their house rooms and dormitories after six o'clock, and there would be no extracurricular activities like Quidditch or the Gobstones Club meetings. Even during the day the students would never be alone; the teachers would from now on escort them to their lessons.

In addition, the Headmaster had closed all the Floo connections between the teachers' fireplaces and blocked every secret passage he knew of (and privately Albus Dumbledore was quite certain that he knew about _every_ secret passage in the Hogwarts grounds, even about the caved-in tunnel under the lake that the others tended to forget). That monster and its master would have to use the regular corridors, which gave the Headmaster at least some control over their movements.

Albus turned around another corner and almost ran into his Potions Master. Severus was standing guard in one of the corridors leading to the Entrance Hall, half-hidden behind the statue of a medieval wizard. Albus smiled. Most of the other staff members patrolled the hallways in pairs, just as he had suggested it. Severus however, always the lone wolf, preferred to go about his task alone.

The Headmaster paused for a moment and watched Severus more closely. The younger wizard appeared to be tired and in a bad mood, but that was no surprise. The Head of Slytherin House always was in a bad mood. Well, _almost_ always. There had been a few occasions in the last four weeks when Albus could have sworn that Severus had almost smiled, usually during conversations with the Head of Gryffindor House.

Albus almost chuckled when he saw Minerva enter the corridor as if on cue. The Headmaster had for a long time waited for Severus and Minerva to truly become friends, and it seemed that the process had finally begun. In spite of being a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, they were able to work together so very well if it was necessary; their involvement in the Order of the Phoenix was proof enough of that. And last year, when Quirrell had let that troll into the castle, they had immediately set out to look for it – together.

"Severus?"

"Minerva?"

Severus yawned, not even pretending to hide his fatigue. Albus smiled again. It was truly an unexpected sight to see the Potions Master off guard, as though he felt easy in someone else's company.

"I thought you were already off duty for tonight," Severus said. "It is past eleven o'clock. I just took over for two of the Prefects."

"I am on my way to my rooms, I just thought I'd come to see if you had noticed anything unusual down here," Minerva replied, with enough irony in her voice to make it clear that she had _really_ dropped by just to keep him company for a few minutes.

Albus beamed, greatly enjoying the show.

"Unless you count the fact that it is uncharacteristically chilly in the Entrance Hall, I am happy to report nothing unusual."

"That's good," Minerva said, her voice trailing off. "After such an awful day…"

She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes for a few seconds. Albus nodded sadly. It had shocked them all when Irma had found the two students on her way to the Quidditch match.

"Merlin, I am tried."

"Go to bed, then. You've already done your shift."

"I'll go in a minute, if you are that eager to see me leave," she said with a little smirk.

"Well, you are a Gryffindor, after all. Not the best company one could wish for."

He smiled as well and Minerva raised one of her eyebrows.

"And there we were doing so well. I do believe that was almost three minutes before you started the insulting game again."

"I am a somewhat of a traditionalist, I suppose."

"I think I _will_ go to bed then, now that I have received my daily dose of your customary maliciousness," Minerva said, her voice still betraying a certain level of amusement. "How long do you have?"

"Until half past one. The ghosts will do the rest of the night."

"You should get more sleep."

"It was not _my_ fault that I did not sleep more than four hours last night."

"Don't you accuse me of this," Minerva retorted quickly. "You would not have given up, either."

Albus perked his ears up, hoping for one moment that the unthinkable might have happened and that the two Heads of Houses might have become more than friends. But most likely Minerva had just referred to yet another game of chess.

Still it was interesting to learn that she had apparently visited Severus until _very_ late last night, especially since he remembered quite clearly how Minerva had announced after dinner that she would go to her quarters and to bed straight away, and was not to be bothered in _any_ case.

In fact, Albus had seen Minerva disappear in the directions of the dungeons quite often during the past four weeks or so – ever since he had intercepted that note Severus had written during a staff meeting – but he had had no idea that she would stay for such long hours.

"If you say so," Severus said. "I will admit that it was a most interesting game, and a fairly pleasant conversation to go with it. You did not even accuse me of being unfair to Longbottom, or Potter, or a Weasley – pick any of your choice…"

The Headmaster laughed quietly to himself while the other two teachers continued their would-be argument. Whatever had happened in the past few weeks, it was obvious that Severus and Minerva had become close friends. After another few minutes, Minerva finally left and the Potions Master leaned against the wall again. His expression still was morose, but he looked as though his mood had improved a little bit.

Albus was just about to leave as well when he heard a hushed voice on his right. It was hard to tell for sure because Severus had sneezed in the exact same moment, but the Headmaster was almost certain that he had just heard a young, male student say a pretty strong swearword.

Severus had not noticed a thing. Albus looked around more closely and saw – nothing. And then he understood. This had to be Harry Potter under his Invisibility Cloak. Whatever was the boy up to now?

He had to do some quick thinking. If the Potter boy was out of bed and invisible to the teachers, where would he go? Possibly he would want to inspect the place where the attack had happened. But that was close to the library, several levels above them. Harry was also – obviously – not there to seek the help of a teacher, he could have done that during the day.

Maybe the boy wanted to seek the monster for himself, and in that case the Forbidden Forest could be his destination. Or… could Harry have heard the rumours about Hagrid's past and was off to see the gamekeeper?

In any case it seemed safe to assume that Harry would want to leave the castle trough the Front Doors, so Albus went there quickly. Sure enough, he saw the doors being opened by invisible hands just when he walked into the Entrance Hall. Albus followed suit.

Outside, he heard voices again. That was some relief; Harry at least was not alone. He followed the children's voices to Hagrid's hut and then finally saw them take off the Invisibility Cloak. Harry and Ron Weasley appeared out of thin air only seconds before Hagrid flung his door open. The gamekeeper was wielding his enormous crossbow, but he immediately ushered the boys into his hut.

The Headmaster stopped in his tracks and allowed himself to breathe more easily. The boys were safe with Hagrid.

But the crossbow worried Albus. After the last attack, Cornelius Fudge had contacted the Headmaster and had made it quite plain that he would arrest the Hogwarts gamekeeper if Albus would not stop the monster. It had been utter nonsense, of course. The Ministry could not arrest perfectly innocent people just because their record said that 50 years ago they might have done something wrong, something that had never been entirely proven.

Albus heard voices again, loud, male, adult voices this time. And there were people at the front gates of Hogwarts. Albus stepped behind a tree, uncast his Disillusionment Charm, and then went to the gates to see who demanded to enter. It was Cornelius Fudge, followed by several Aurors. Not a good sign, not at all.

"Minister," Albus said politely while he opened the gates.

"Good evening, Headmaster," the Minister answered equally polite, but with a certain edge to his tone of voice.

"What brings you here tonight?" Albus added, trying to sound civil.

"I think you know that, Albus," Fudge replied.

He looked nervous, and yet determined. Albus suddenly understood that his influence with the Ministry was not as strong anymore as it had used to be.

"You are not going to arrest him, Cornelius. Not if I have one word to say about it."

"Unfortunately, you– Albus, just let me go and speak with your gamekeeper. You know he harbours this strange affection for dangerous creatures, maybe he will admit to something."

"Hagrid will not admit a crime he did not commit. If you want to talk to him, I shall accompany you. And I do not think this entourage is entirely necessary."

Albus nodded to the Aurors, and one of them nodded back.

"We will wait here," the young man said. "If you will give us your word that Rubeus Hagrid will not attack the Minister."

"Certainly I will do that," Albus said tersely. "But there is no need for you to wait outside on such a chilly night. Why don't you go to the castle? Would you tell the teachers that I have gone to Hagrid's hut?"

He led the Minister to Hagrid's home, taking his time. Hopefully Hagrid would see them approach and have enough time to hide the two boys.

Albus knocked and Hagrid opened the door, looking pallid and sweaty. With a quick glance, Albus scanned the room. There was no trace of Harry and Ronald, although he heard a muffled noise out of one of the corners when Cornelius Fudge entered. There was a crumpled piece of parchment on Hagrid's bed; a parchment that looked like an official Ministry letter. Fudge had apparently at least had the decency to warn Hagrid that he was a suspect.

It was a dreadful situation. Hagrid kept throwing pleading looks at Albus, but the Headmaster knew that he could most likely not help his gamekeeper, not unless he did something illegal. Fudge explained that the school governors had contacted the Ministry, and that in fact _they_ had recommended removing Hagrid 'temporarily' from his position. This had to be Lucius Malfoy's doing. Albus was furious.

"Yet again, Cornelius," he insisted, "I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help in the slightest."

The discussion went on. Hagrid was trembling with fear, now that he had realised that he would not only be removed from his position, but also taken to Azkaban. And then there was someone else knocking on the door.

The Headmaster went to open the door, even more furious now that the Aurors had obviously not followed his request to wait outside. But the man coming inside was certainly no Auror. Lucius Malfoy grinned like a shark when he entered Hagrid's house. He started insulting Hagrid right away, which was lucky because it meant that neither he nor Fudge noticed the gasp coming out of the corner where the two boys were hiding.

"And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?" Albus asked quietly, once more needing all his willpower to be able to speak politely.

It was obvious what Malfoy wanted. He had for long tried to get rid of Albus, always campaigning for a Slytherin Headmaster. If he came here tonight, and in person, this could only mean one thing.

"_Dreadful_ thing, Dumbledore," Malfoy said.

Albus was pleased to notice that the other man still did not dare to call him by first name.

"But the governors," Malfoy went on, "feel it's time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension – you'll find all twelve signatures on it. I'm afraid we feel you're losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now? Two more this afternoon, wasn't it? At this rate, there'll be no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts, and we all know what an _awful_ loss that would be to the school."

Now, Cornelius Fudge went pale. He started protesting, and in another situation Albus would have found it rather amusing. But as matters stood, they were in a tight spot now. If Albus had to step aside from his post, there was absolutely nothing he could do to aid Hagrid. Yet, maybe it was a good idea to leave the school for a while.

That very last comment Malfoy had made about Muggle-borns confirmed Albus's long-standing suspicion that Lucius Malfoy knew more about the Monster of Slytherin than he would readily admit. If Albus pretended to run away, maybe he would be able to investigate matters more thoroughly.

"If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall of course step aside," Albus said clearly, ignoring the protests from Fudge and Hagrid, "However, you will find that I will only _truly_ have left this school when none here are loyal to me."

Everyone in this school was loyal to Albus, he knew that – well, everyone but Lockhart maybe, and Sybill if her crystal orb told her otherwise. But he was thinking of two people in particular.

Three members of the Order of the Phoenix worked at Hogwarts. If Fudge took Hagrid away, that still meant that Minerva and Severus remained at the castle. Albus knew his school to be in good hands, but he had to make sure that _everyone_ present in this room understood how much he trusted his teachers.

"You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it," he added, looking directly into the corner where he knew Harry and Ron to be hiding.

He would never get these boys to trust their Potions Master, but they were smart enough to figure out that he was referring to his Deputy Headmistress. If Albus was gone, Minerva would run the school for him.

Hopefully, the boys would understand his hint and speak to Minerva. Whatever they suspected about the monster, any information could be of value now. Minerva was their Head of House. They would trust her.

_Hopefully_. Albus would have felt a little more confident if Hermione Granger had been hiding in that corner.

The former Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry turned around and left Hagrid's hut, ignoring the smug look on Lucius Malfoy's face. He had to go and speak to some of his teachers right away, especially to the new Headmistress.

* * *

_A/N: Please do forgive me for writing a non-fun chapter in a story that is supposed to be a romantic comedy__, but I really needed it for the plot to go on in a canon way. I promise the next chapter will feature Severus, Minerva, and a perfectly plausible but awkwardly close encounter… can you picture the esteemed Head of Gryffindor House wearing the Potion Master's shirt, and not much else to go with it?_

_- Frank_


	14. On Friendship

_A/N: You can find a link to a dungeon level floor plan in the story description in my profile. Just a help to visualise what Snape's rooms might look like._

_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_

**Chapter 13 – On Friendship**

_**(alternately Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape POV)**_

Minerva leaned back on the surprisingly comfortable settee in Severus's living room and closed her eyes for a short moment. She was tired. More than tired, actually, she felt worn-out, weary, utterly exhausted and drained of all energy. She really had absolutely no idea why she had accepted Severus's invitation to another game of chess tonight when all she craved were a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

It was not even as though they played any more. Well, sometimes they did – that one match two days ago had been one of the toughest Minerva had ever played. But to be perfectly honest, they usually just set up the chess board and then ignored it after the first few moves. Surprisingly enough _talking_ with Severus was even more invigorating than playing against him.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Merlin, yes," Minerva admitted, opening her eyes again. "I should not have come here after my shift of patrolling. I should have gone straight to bed like Pomona did. You're lucky that you're off tonight."

* * *

Severus smiled while he watched Minerva, and it was – very much to his own surprise – a genuine smile. He liked that woman. Especially when no one else was around. There were times when he thought that these were the moments when he encountered the real Minerva McGonagall. 

Not that there was anything unreal about her at any other time. The new Headmistress was such an upright character that she always was herself, without any play-acting (unless, maybe, a certain blond celebrity was close by). But in the past four weeks Severus had learned that Minerva could actually relax when she was alone, and, even more astonishing, that she could do so when she was alone with him.

He now often invited her to his rooms just to have someone to speak to, and, marvellously, Minerva always accepted, almost as though she liked spending her time there. Maybe it simply was the fact that no one else in the castle knew about these visits, and that Severus's quarters thus had become Minerva's secret hide-out when she wanted to get away from her daily job routine.

"I know I got lucky tonight," he said. "But I am doing a double shift tomorrow. One of the Prefects is not feeling well and Poppy does not want him to wander the corridors at night."

"I wonder how long we can keep this up," Minerva yawned. "All of the staff members are so desperately deprived of sleep."

"We have to, and thus we will manage."

"Says the man who missed our last staff meeting because he fell asleep."

Severus smiled apologetically, but he had understood that Minerva was only teasing him. After all, he had been awake all night because _she_ had asked him to research alternative methods to the Mandrake Restorative Draught. No wonder that he had missed the staff meeting this afternoon. Tibby had woken him with the message that the Headmistress was looking for him.

"By the way," Minerva said, "I told everyone that you could not attend the meeting because you were doing additional research on how to give a Potion to a ghost."

"Thank you," he retorted, genuinely surprised that she had covered up for him. "So did you decide anything important?"

"Not really. We've made Dumbledore's last suggestion a rule – you know, that the patrols at night time have to be done in pairs. Most staff members were anyway doing it that way."

The Potions Master frowned; he preferred to work on his own.

"I think we will manage to make sure that Lockhart will not share his shifts with you," Minerva said dryly. "But you might have to put up with Aurora or Sybill."

"Oh, wonderful. One will be prone to giggle persistently and the other one will constantly predict my imminent and gruesome death."

"Look, I am not going to hand out time-tables," Minerva said crossly. "Partner with whomever you like, but do not prowl the castle on your own. It is a _safety precaution_, after all. Between nine in the evening and seven in the morning no one is to be alone in the corridors."

* * *

Minerva felt almost sorry for being in such a bad mood, and for venting her wrath on Severus. Almost. She knew he could take it. That was one of the advantages of spending time with the Slytherin Head, he would never back down just because she was in a temper. 

And she was the new Headmistress, was she not? At least Albus and that awful Lucius Malfoy had informed her about 24 hours ago that the school governors had voted to remove Dumbledore from his position and to name her Headmistress for the time being.

Her new position meant that she had to set the rules that she thought necessary, and make sure that they were being followed properly. Even if Minerva had a bit of a soft spot when Severus was concerned, she would make him follow her orders.

Minerva looked up and saw that Severus was watching her with narrowed eyes, as though he was pondering something. She looked away and started playing with the fringes of her shawl that she had put beside her on the settee.

Soft spot? Had she just – thankfully only in her own thoughts – admitted that she liked the Head of Slytherin House? Well, yes, of course she liked him. A lot. But that was… something entirely different. Minerva shook her head. All that lack of sleep made her confused.

* * *

"There is something else on your mind," Severus said carefully. "Something that worries you." 

"Of course there is," she snapped. "Do remember, there is a potentially lethal monster somewhere in this school."

Severus looked away from her. He did understand her reaction, somewhat. Like himself, Minerva was a person who hated to be pressured, especially if it was about something personal. She would share her worries only if she was ready to do so.

After a few moments of heavy silence, Minerva spoke again.

"I wonder if I should send the students home."

Her voice was softer this time, almost apologetic. Severus realised that she had just admitted part of what troubled her so deeply.

"Dumbledore did not think it necessary," he said quietly.

"Yes, but it was his decision then. Now it's mine."

Minerva bit her lip absent-mindedly, and Severus suddenly understood. She had always been Albus Dumbledore's second-in-command, both in the Order of the Phoenix and in Hogwarts. This was the first time in her life when she alone was in charge for so many people, and in a very crucial situation, too.

If another student got hurt even killed, it would be Minerva's responsibility. She was the one who would have to face the consequences of a potential death.

"All this year you have advised the Headmaster to send the students home, and now you do have to power to do so. Yet you hesitate," Severus stated.

"If I close the school, this will be the end of Hogwarts. We have no chance of ever catching the monster then. The ministry would never allow us to re-open the school next year. The end of a thousand-year old tradition… Severus, is it worth it? Is the danger _that_ real? With all the precautions we are taking now, _can_ there be any more attacks?"

* * *

Minerva realised that she was on the verge of crying because she was so desperate to do the right thing. In the war, she had sometimes given orders that had endangered other people – but they had been adults, grown-up witches and wizards who had known what they signed up for when they had joined the Order of the Phoenix. Now she was risking the lives of innocent children. 

And yet, people would skin her alive if she dared to close Hogwarts without proper cause. Hogwarts was one of the five leading magic schools, a pillar of the world-wide wizarding society. She could not just disregard that fact. Even Cornelius Fudge had been adamant about _not_ sending the students home.

Albus Dumbledore was up to making such decisions. Minerva knew that she was not his equal. She was not as powerful, and not as confident that things would work out just fine. She was not up to his tasks.

"The heir of Slytherin is likely to be one of the students. Actually, he is likely to be one of _my _students," Severus said thoughtfully, with just a hint of bitterness in his voice. "With all the extra precautions to keep the students monitored at all times, I do not think it likely that he can prepare another attack."

"Unlikely, but not impossible," Minerva objected, although Severus's words did make her feel a little better.

"Also," he continued, "so far the attacks have not been as bad as last time. We do not know why, but the monster only petrifies its victims. No one was killed. For all we know, that creature might have lost some of its power."

"I think that is too much to hope for."

"And lastly… Minerva, fifty years ago a student was killed in this castle. _You_ actually witnessed those days, and you know that they did not close the school even then. In general the wizarding society seems to prefer Hogwarts over a life. Even if more attacks happen, even if a student dies – I do not think people will hold it against you. Not for long at least."

"Spoken like a true Slytherin," she answered, not quite sure how to react to his reasoning. "It is not my reputation I care about."

* * *

Severus saw the expression on Minerva's face change and knew he had said something wrong. Of course she was not worried about her _reputation_. The question was whether she herself could live with the fact that someone had died because of her actions. Minerva was one of those rare persons who honestly tired to act according to a clear conscience. 

His reasoning had been to Slytherin-like, to much like the way of thinking a Death Eater might employ.

"I know," he answered cautiously. "I did not mean to imply that. Forgive me if my words were ill-chosen."

She nodded jerkily, maybe not quite convinced, but ready to listen to him some more.

"What would _you_ do?" she suddenly asked.

Severus swallowed hard, knowing that a lot depended on his answer. What would he do in her place? To be perfectly honest, he did not quite know.

"I think…" he said slowly, "I think I would send them home. For several reasons. Traditions do not mean that much to me. Hogwarts is not exactly a happy place that I love. I would not mind that much if it was never re-opened, and… I already have blood on my hands."

He did not look at Minerva, but sensed that she had relaxed a little.

"So you think I should send the students home," she stated quietly.

"No, I said _I _would do that. I don't think _you _should."

"Explain."

"Do treat those events fifty years ago as a precedent. Other people have already pondered that question, and they have decided that Hogwarts has to go on. Also, you do _know_ that the students are better-protected now than they have ever been before. And Dumbledore advised you to keep the school open. Trust him, usually he is right."

* * *

"How do you know Albus told me that?" Minerva asked, utterly surprised. 

"He did tell me that you would maybe want to close the school, and that I was to talk you out of if," Severus replied with a little smirk.

"That bastard!"

Minerva could not help it, she started laughing. Trust Albus Dumbledore to manipulate her even when he was not present. Severus's smirk broadened into a sly smile.

"You are aware that I will tell him what you called him," he said deviously.

"Fine with me! Honestly, how _dare_ that man do something like that – so all the advice you just gave me was really his advice?"

"No, that was my personal opinion. – Minerva, I do know this is hard for you. But you are not alone, keep that in mind."

She leaned back in her seat and watched the man sitting on the other side of the low table. He was right, and she knew it. Whatever was going to happen in the future, she would not be alone to face those events.

"I think that was the reason why I came here tonight," Minerva said warmly.

"Hm?"

"I wondered earlier why I did come here, when it was obvious both of us would be too tired to play chess, even though it makes such a pretty excuse to visit you. I needed to talk to someone, and I knew I'd find a friend here."

She knew that she had blushed a little and looked away from Severus. Damn, she was not good at this. It was fine and dandy to quarrel daily when they both knew it was just their way of expressing mutual amity, but to openly call the Potions Master a friend was… overdoing things a bit. Maybe.

"You must be overly tired," Severus said dryly. "If you already feel inclined to consider a Slytherin your friend."

He was trying to make this easy for her, actually offering her a way to back out. Well, she was not a Gryffindor for nothing. Gryffindors might be foolishly noble sometimes, but they were brave.

"I mean it, Severus," she said, looking up.

The look on his face was priceless. She had hardly ever seen Severus Snape nervous. But after a few seconds, he relaxed visibly and returned her gaze.

"I know," he answered. "We are friends; I know that – I think I could just not believe my ears to hear one of us actually speak that word."

Minerva smiled.

* * *

Severus looked at her and watched that small smile expand into a wicked grin. 

"What is it?"

"This situation is so unreal," Minerva answered, laughing a little. "I mean, we're both overreacting because we're so tired – at least I know I am – and suddenly there we are staring at each other like smitten teenagers when really we are just talking about _friendship_. I wondered for a moment what Lockhart would say if he saw us like that."

Severus could not help it, he laughed.

"He would hate it. Almost makes me wish he would walk in now."

"He is still quite interested in you, isn't he?"

"The man just cannot fathom that there are people in this world who are not in love with him. I think that is all there is. He needs to prove to himself that he can have anyone."

"Then he is in for a disappointment."

"Definitely."

Severus looked at the old-fashioned clock on his mantelpiece and yawned. He was dead-tired, but did somehow not want to break this conversation up. The evening had turned out to be much more pleasant than he had expected.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked

"I think I should go to bed, but…"

He snapped his fingers and called Tibby, and the small house-elf appeared instantly. She listened to his order and started grinning, then she interrupted him.

"Tea already is prepared, Master. Tibby is thinking that Master and Mistress will want something nice and hot. Master's room is very cold again."

The house-elf looked as though she was scolding her master gently. Severus forced himself not to smile. That little creature sure was the most dedicated elf he had ever met.

"Alright, then."

Tibby disappeared and was back within a flash, carrying a tray with tea and some shortbread biscuits. She set the table carefully and then went to the hearth where she put some more logs in the fire.

"Will Master be needing anything else?"

"No, Tibby, that will be everything. Go to bed."

"Yes, Master. – Sir, may Tibby…"

Severus anticipated what she was going to say and interrupted her with an impatient gesture. Tibby cocked her head to the side and beamed.

"Alright, but close the doors."

"Yes, Sir. Goodnight, Sir. Goodnight, Professor McGonagall, Mistress."

The small elf flapped her ears delightedly and hurried away to Severus's office. She closed the door from the other side, and seconds later they heard her open and close the other door leading to the laboratory.

"What was that all about?" Minerva asked.

She nibbled on one of the shortbreads with a rather amused expression on her face.

"Tibby has taken to sleeping in my laboratory, Merlin knows why. I have given her some blankets and pillows and she has made herself a nest in one of the storage cabinets. For some reason she insists that she is comfortable there."

"That elf sure does love you," Minerva commented.

Severus snorted. Tibby was apparently not unhappy with him as her new master, but love was too strong a word.

"Don't be foolish. She claims that it is easier for her to coordinate her work with my irregular sleeping habits if she is close by, and frankly I do not think she gets along too well with the other house-elves. Maybe they do look down on her because she got drunk that once."

"Then let's say that she seems very devoted to you. You treat her well."

"I just told her to stay away from Lockhart and try not to treat her like a bond-slave."

Minerva looked at him, once again as though something amused her quite a bit.

"What?" he asked irritably.

"Just as Lockhart cannot imagine a being who is not in love with him, you cannot grasp the idea that someone might like you just because of who you are."

"Nonsense."

Severus was glad to notice that Minerva was smart enough not to push the matter any further.

* * *

Minerva had a really hard time not to laugh out loud, but she managed to maintain a nearly serious expression on her face (_nearly_ being the key word there). Sometimes it was just plain funny to watch Severus react to his environment, especially if he had to handle unexpected displays of affection. At least Tibby was not romantically interested in him, like Lockhart was; and then of course there had been that Christmas when Sybill Trelawney had… 

"Now what are you thinking of?" Severus asked tetchily.

"Sybill."

"And that is a reason to smile?"

"Not really. Sorry, I think that lack of sleep just makes me giddy."

"Giddiness does not suit you well. Next thing you'll let your hair down, and then I really won't know how to handle you any more."

"Now you are the one who is talking nonsense," Minerva said haughtily. "But I do think I will floo to my place now and go to bed."

Minerva drank the last sip of her tea and got up from her seat. She put her tartan shawl around her shoulders and stepped closer to the fireplace.

"Thanks for the tea, Severus. And the conversation. Oh, damn–"

"What?"

"I keep forgetting that Dumbledore sealed the floo connection. Well, I suppose that means that I'll _go_ back to my place. Goodnight, Severus."

Minerva drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders and went to the door.

"Wait."

"Mmm?"

Severus had put his black cloak on and waved his wand to extinguish the candles.

"Are you going somewhere?" Minerva asked.

"I am going to walk you back to your rooms."

"There is no need for that. I think I do know the way."

"The new school rule, does that ring a bell? No staff member is to be allowed alone in the corridors after nine o'clock. It is–" he checked his clock in an exaggerated way, "It is twenty past one. What does that tell you?"

Minerva had the impression that Severus did enjoy lecturing her, just to get even because she had earlier been so adamant about the rule. She could not quite see his facial expression because he was standing a few feet away from her and had already put out most of the candles.

"Don't be silly, Severus."

"I am not being silly," he said in a silky voice that suggested the very opposite of his words. "You've said it yourself – it's not some random rule, it's a safety precaution."

"I can very well look after myself."

"So can I, and yet you insisted that I was to obey The Rules. Even if you are our new Headmistress, there can be no exception for you."

He was enjoying this tremendously. Minerva bit her lip.

"Even if I did accept your offer to accompany me, that would mean you'd have to walk back here alone. One of us _has_ to break this oh-so-sacred rule," she said impatiently.

"So am I to let the lady face danger all on her own? – Minerva, I am trying to display chivalrous manners here."

"Which is not at all like you!" she stormed.

"Do give me some credit. There have been occasions in the past when I did act politely," he retorted, now openly laughing.

"And you did tell me not to get used to it. Look, I do appreciate the offer, thank you very much, but you will not risk your very _life_ just to prove a point."

"And neither will you," Severus answered.

His voice was more serious now. He turned back to the candles and lit them again so they would not have to continue their argument in the dark.

"You did not make that rule up just for fun," he said sincerely. "Except for Finch-Fletchley and Nearly-Headless Nick, all the victims were alone when they were attacked; and I suppose a ghost does not count because he cannot defend himself. Even the two girls yesterday were found lying a number of feet apart. The creature apparently does not attack several people at once, so two adults might stand a chance against it. _Two_, not one."

Minerva stared at the Head of Slytherin House, knowing that he would not back down. Merlin, that man was stubborn. Why could he not be like everyone else and just do what she told him to do?

"So what then, Severus? You will not let me go and I will not let you come with me. I can't stay here all night."

"Why not?"

* * *

Severus was glad that he had just looked away from Minerva when he had said that. He was too surprised when he heard his own voice, and needed a moment to re-create a stoical expression on his face. 

When he turned around, the Head of Gryffindor House still stared at him. Apparently that comment had made her forget whatever she had wanted to say.

"Why not?" he repeated, now enjoying her reaction.

"Because we both need to sleep, that's why. Much as I enjoy talking with you all night long, tomorrow is a Monday and we will have to get up early."

"Technically it is possible for you to sleep here."

"I could not possibly… not when all that gossip about us has just died down a bit…"

"It is not like anybody would have to know. And you might have noticed that I do have more than one room – I did not imply sharing a bed."

Minerva still looked at him as though he had suggested finding a cosy sleeping place in the Forbidden Forest. Severus frowned. Great Merlin, it was not as though he had proposed anything indecent. They were adults, after all, adults and friends – not teenagers who could not be trusted in suchlike situations.

"You _would_ stay if this was Poppy's or Pomona's place," he said. "It is the logical thing to do."

Minerva nodded slowly.

"Well, I suppose I could curl up on that armchair by the fireside…" she said hesitantly.

"You hate sleeping as a cat."

"Who told you that?"

"You."

"I did?"

"Some time during the war, you and Marlene McKinnon talked about those night shifts you did together – when you spied on my fellow Death Eaters. You said then that you hated sleeping in your Animagus form."

Severus looked at the settee in his living room. It was comfortable enough to sit on, but did not exactly make a good bed (having fallen asleep on it more than once, he _knew_ that). Minerva still looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face.

He shrugged irritably and went into his bedroom, leaving the door open. Severus looked around. The bedroom was as clean and orderly as ever. He opened his wardrobe and took one of his standard white shirts; then he returned to the living room.

Minerva had gone back to the fireplace and warmed her hands over the flames. At least she had taken that ugly shawl off, so she had apparently decided that she would stay for the rest of the night.

"There," he said curtly, handing the Headmistress his shirt. "You also mentioned back then that you do not like sleeping in your robes, and this is the best I alternative I can offer."

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"Bathroom is on the other side of the bedroom," he explained. "You take the bed, I'll sleep here. Now would you stop looking so shocked and just go to bed?"

"Alright." Minerva looked up and smiled suddenly. "Goodnight, Severus."

* * *

Minerva went into the small bedroom. She did leave the door slightly ajar, after all these were Severus's rooms and he might want to use his bathroom in the morning. On the other hand, he did probably have another washbasin in his laboratory. 

She put the white shirt on the bed and looked around in the bedroom, trying to be not too nosy. It was a small room, furnished only with a plain bed, one trunk, a wardrobe, one small mirror next to the wardrobe, and several bookshelves. Minerva was surprised to notice a tiny cellar window just above the bed – she was certain that this window could not be detected from the outside.

The bathroom was equally spartan – Gilderoy Lockhart would not have been happy at all. Minerva grinned, thinking that she possibly was the first person who entered these two rooms ever since Severus had moved in about twelve years ago. She knew that he had had one or the other short-lived affair, but he had never brought his partners to Hogwarts.

Minerva undid her hair and ran through it with a small comb that she always carried in her pocket. Then she brushed her teeth (conjuring up toothbrushes was one of the first things she had learned on those night shifts with Marlene) and washed her face.

Back in the bedroom, Minerva undressed slowly (except for her knickers, unless there was a very good reason she would not take those off in somebody else's bedroom!) and put her clothes in one orderly pile on that trunk. The pressed white shirt was a little bit too big for her, so it really was perfect for a nightshirt.

Minerva laughed quietly when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in that mirror. The Head of Gryffindor House wearing nothing but a man's shirt (well, _almost_ nothing), with her hair undone and in a strange bedroom… it was an unusual sight.

Maybe _too _unusual. It had been a little too long since she had done something inappropriate like that, and Minerva found that she quite enjoyed doing it right now.

It was cool in the bedroom, so she swiftly slipped under the bedcovers and extinguished the lights. The bed was not exactly soft, but comfortable – just the way she liked it. And it smelled good, like a certain Potions Master she knew. Yawning, Minerva turned to her side.

Only five minutes ago, she would not have thought it possible to sleep under these circumstances, but then again… she was in this bed because someone truly cared for her safety. Considering who that someone was, it was actually quite likely that there were additional spells warding this room, so this was probably the safest place in Hogwarts. How could she not relax then?

Minerva closed her eyes and fell asleep within seconds.

* * *

Four hours later, Severus gave up. It was simply not possible to sleep on that stupid settee. Oh, one could _fall asleep_, but one could definitely not _rest_. Even after he had transfigured the darn thing to become longer, wider, and softer, it did remain the most uncomfortable piece of furniture he had ever encountered. Why had he even bothered to set the alarm of his clock? It was not like he was going to sleep anyway. 

He got up and stretched, and then started to pace the room, occasionally shooting angry glances at that sorry excuse for a bed. Probably the thing was cursed so that no one could properly relax on it? Unlikely, but not entirely impossible… He made a mental note to check his rooms for unusual curses first thing in the morning.

It was not just that damned make-shift bed he had tried to sleep on, there was something on his mind. He had just not yet figured out what it was. Severus stopped his pacing and sat down again, this time in his favourite armchair.

That was better. He put his feet on the small table and tried to shift into a more comfortable posture. Maybe he could just not sleep because he had used his cloak for a blanket. Well, Minerva had left her shawl in the living room, and she would probably not mind if he used it. She was, after all, sleeping in _his_ bed, most likely wearing _his_ shirt.

Severus took the warm shawl and draped it over himself. He shook his head. Did that woman own one little thing that was not all tartan? Tartan _with fringes_. Minerva would buy anything that vaguely suggested Scotland, no matter how distasteful it was.

At least the fabric was soft and felt nice to the touch. And it did smell good – rather like a certain Professor for Transfiguration, but that did of course not mean a thing.

Another fifty minutes later he woke up with a start, this time because his alarm went off. It could not already be… yes, it already was half past six. The Potions Master felt about as rested as though he had spent the whole night on a nail bed. His students would today better behave exceptionally well (even if they were Slytherins), or he would have to take _a lot_ of points to improve his mood.

Severus got up and walked to the bedroom. He knocked on the door before opening it, but there was no answer. Minerva slept soundly. Not wanting to wake her, Severus moved as quietly as possible. He took some fresh clothes out of his wardrobe and then went into the bathroom.

One cold shower later he did still not quite feel awake, but at least less exhausted than before. Severus went through his morning routine of toothbrushing and shaving and then dressed quickly. It probably was about ten to seven by now. Time to wake the Sleeping Gryffindor Beauty.

The Head of Slytherin House went back into his bedroom. A smile appeared on his lips when he once more watched the sleeping woman. Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, asleep in _his_ bed. This had to be the strangest thing he had ever seen – and, possibly also one of the most peaceful scenes that he had ever witnessed.

Minerva slept on her side, with one hand slightly curled and resting on the pillow. Her expression was calm and relaxed. Severus felt the smile deepen on his face when he studied her hair, all tousled and with one stand falling across her face, and so unlike the tight bun he was accustomed to seeing.

Severus bent forward and pushed that strand of hair away, as tenderly as he could. Minerva smiled and turned in her sleep, but did not quite wake up. The bedcover slipped from her shoulder and Severus looked at his own shirt, for some reason pleased with the fact that she was indeed wearing it. She slept so serenely that he hated having to wake her.

He reached out once more, intending to touch her shoulder and wake her as gently as possible. And then, all of a sudden, Severus Snape realised that he could not touch her again, at least not with entirely innocent intentions.

He loved her. Out of the blue, realisation hit him with full force. His feelings for her were not limited to a regular friendship, but he had fallen in love without even being aware of the process. All those quiet evenings spent together, all that bonding and the trust they had build up… it had led to far.

Severus backed away from the bed, knowing that if he did touch Minerva now, he would get carried away and try to kiss her or do something else they both would regret.

"Tibby?" he whispered hoarsely, more than grateful for the existence of that house-elf.

It took only about 15 seconds before Tibby appeared at his side; 15 seconds that felt way to long to Severus.

"Yes, Master?"

The elf looked as though she had just woken her up, but as always she appeared eager to please.

"I will go upstairs for breakfast," Severus said. "Tibby, would you wake Professor McGonagall? I assume she would prefer if you did that once I have left."

"Yes, Sir."

Tibby stifled a yawn.

"And then do please help Professor McGonagall to get to the Entrance Hall unseen. No one is to know that she has spent the night here, do you understand?"

Severus did not wait for Tibby to reply, but turned on the spot and left the room.

* * *

Minerva realised that there was someone in the room, but she was still too drowsy to react. Gentle fingertips brushed some of her hair out of her face, and she smiled in her sleep. This felt wonderful. She turned, trying to follow that gentle touch, but lost contact somehow. 

A dream was still vivid in her mind, she could not quite remember what it exactly it had been about, but it had involved someone touching her just like this, tenderly, lovingly, and then also with increasing passion. It had been someone she knew, someone who was…

"Professor McGonagall, Mistress, time to wake up!"

Minerva opened her eyes and saw Tibby next to her bed. The house-elf ginned happily.

"Good morning, Professor McGonagall!"

"Good morning, Tibby," Minerva mumbled, still sleepy.

It took her one or two seconds to realise just where she had woken up, and why it was Tibby who now offered to fetch her tea and breakfast, or do anything else that Mistress would like.

"Where is Professor Snape?"

"Master has already gone to eat breakfast. He is saying Tibby is to help Mistress get away from here unseen."

"Merlin, you are right! I have to get out of here."

Minerva slipped out from under her covers and got out of the bed.

"Tibby, I'll be ready in two minutes, could you wait for me in the living room? I'd appreciate if you could make sure nobody sees me going upstairs."

Five minutes later, Minerva left Severus's rooms and immediately turned into her cat shape after she had closed the door. Although almost everybody in this castle knew that she was an Animagus, with that many cats in Hogwarts she usually managed to go about unnoticed.

Tibby made sure that there was no one in the Entrance Hall, and once she had gotten there unseen, Minerva the cat darted up to her own rooms. Outside her own door, she checked once more that there was no one around, then she transfigured back to human shape and entered her living room.

Inside, she leaned against her door and grinned. That had gone well. For some reason, she felt quite good about this whole adventure.

* * *

Severus was not even the first one in the Great Hall, Filius Flitwick already sat at the staff table and enjoyed his morning tea. 

"Good morning, lad," the old wizard greeted him. "Want to have a look at the _Daily Prophet_? I'm almost through with it."

"Mmm," Severus mumbled while sitting down. "Anything interesting?"

"Nothing that's news to us," Filius said, handing him the front page.

'_Two More Students Attacked on Hogwarts Grounds'_ was the screaming headline, with a sub-heading saying '_Albus Dumbledore removed from his position as Headmaster'_. Severus picked the paper up and started reading. Filius was right, the article was nothing but a summary of the events that had taken place on Saturday, and concluded with a brief characterisation of the new Acting Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.

In the meantime, a few more staff members and some students had arrived in the Great Hall. Pomona sat down next to Filius and yawned. Severus handed the newspaper to her.

"Does anybody have an idea where Minerva is?" Filius suddenly asked. "She is late."

Severus was very proud of the fact that he managed _not_ to choke on his tea. Hopefully Tibby had followed his orders.

"No idea," he said curtly. "Why?"

"I just thought she might want to read this article," the Head of Ravenclaw replied. "They mention that she was Head of the Auror Training Programme in the past, so I suppose some of the students will ask her about that today – ah, but there she is."

Severus looked up when Minerva sat down on her customary place next to him, smelling of rose shampoo and looking as pristine as ever. She greeted everyone just as usual and then started nibbling on a piece of toast.

"Still not feeling inclined to sit down in the Headmaster's place?" Pomona said, grinning. "By the way, you should read this. Both the _Prophet_ and the _Quibbler_ mention you."

"No, as far as I am concerned this still is Albus's seat," Minerva said, pointing to the throne-like chair on her right. "He will be back."

"I think so, too. That Malfoy must have blackmailed the other governors, or bribed them – but they will call Albus back sooner or later," Filius said thoughtfully. "Not that you do not make a great Headmistress, of course," he added gallantly.

"No offence taken, Filius."

The corners of Minerva's mouth twitched just a little while she scanned one article in the Quibbler, as though she was genuinely amused about something but did not want to show it. Severus looked away from her.

"You do seem to be in a good mood this morning," Pomona commented. "And well-rested. You look much better than you did last night."

"Oh, I did not even sleep that much," Minerva answered vaguely while reading on. "I just – had a long good talk with a friend yesterday, and that helped to put some things in perspective."

"That is a very nice thing to say," Pomona said warmly. "Thank you."

Severus looked up and saw a genuinely happy expression on Pomona's face. Of course, the Head of Hufflepuff House had done the night shift with Minerva yesterday, and she was one of Minerva's closest friends. It was only natural that she would assume Minerva had meant her.

Minerva looked up and realisation dawned on her face. "You're welcome," she said after a few seconds, and then she turned to the Potions Master.

"Severus, would you pass me the tea?"

He did so, and for just a split second their eyes met. He did not need Legilimency to understand what she was trying to say. She had meant him, and he did honestly appreciate the compliment.

"Any time," he said, knowing that she understood he was not referring to a pot of 'Wizard's Choice English Breakfast Tea'.

Minerva looked at him for another second, her eyes suddenly widening as though she had just realised or remembered something important.

Then she took the teapot and continued to chat with Filius. Severus picked the Quibbler up and pretended to read the editorial, which today was some weird and wonderful tale about tiger-sized Kneazles that supposedly could be found in the Forest of Marston Vale.

_Any time_, he had said, and Minerva was aware of the invitation. She would come to him if she needed someone to talk to, and that would probably lead to a few more nights spent in such close proximity.

It had been a foolish thing to say. Severus knew that he would not mind at all if Minerva spent another night in his bed, but he was not quite sure if he was up to handling the situation. If she really felt that comfortable in his rooms… it was both a little too close and not close enough.


	15. Gonna Make Somebody Love Me

_A/N: __Want to get in The Lockhart Mood before reading this chapter?_

_Go to youtube dot com, search for the video called "Gilderoy Lockhart – Do you want to?" by panapaula and enjoy. The quality is not the best but the song fits Goldilocks perfectly. _

"_When I woke up tonight  
I said I'm gonna make somebody love me  
I'm gonna make somebody love me  
And now I know, now I know, now I know  
I know that it's you  
You're lucky, lucky, you're so lucky"_

_("__Do you want to?" by Franz Ferdinand)_

* * *

**Chapter ****14 – Gonna Make Somebody Love Me**

_**(Gilderoy Lockhart POV)**_

When Gilderoy heard them argue he knew that now, finally, the time had come to make his next move.

During the past weeks – _months_ now, really, he had rarely ever been that patient! – he had acted strictly according to his plan and yes, the plan had been quite successful so far. Well, of course it had, after all it had been a scheme designed by the One and Only Gilderoy Lockhart!

He had kept to a low-fat diet and had worked out every second day. He had increased the number of visits to his personal coiffeur and to 'Elaine's Excellent Spa Experience' where they could truly make one look younger (_"Two hours with us will take two months off your face – guaranteed!"_), and naturally he had also invested in some more products of that wonderful Sleekeazy's Hair Potion line. He had even taken more care that usual to always buff his nails and to ensure that he slept enough – dark rings and bags under one's eyes were to be avoided at all costs.

The result was that Gilderoy now felt healthier, fitter, and (most importantly) much more handsome than ever before.

He stopped for a second and checked his reflection in one of the windows. Yes Sir, that's right! He was definitely better-looking than _ever _before. Gilderoy blew his mirror image a kiss and then once more concentrated on eavesdropping on the ongoing discussion.

Gilderoy had been quite lucky to overhear that little bit of conversation. Severus and old Professor Flitwick had just been about to start their shift of patrolling when they (and Gilderoy, who had by chance left the Great Hall just behind them) had run into the Headmistress. The three Professors had immediately started to discuss something that sounded very scientific and even more boring – something about research they had done, ghosts, Potions, and the means to administer medicine in vaporised form. Soon, their discussion had become quite excided, but Filius Flitwick had nevertheless left after one or two minutes.

Presumably the Head of Ravenclaw House wanted to get started with the first round of patrols. It was always so very difficult to round the students up and make them go to their Common Rooms after dinner. Many of them tried to escape the boring evenings there and apparently considered it a sport to hide from their Professors.

"I'll be with you in a minute," Severus called after Filius, and the old man nodded.

Minerva shook her head, still thinking about something Severus had said earlier. Gilderoy retreated two more steps and hid behind a pillar.

"But what you propose is simply _impossible_," Minerva said decidedly. "It makes no difference whether one transfigures a Potion so that it takes on a mist form – you might as well just boil it so hot that it starts evaporating. Either way, the original magical properties will be destroyed –"

"– or at least severely changed," Severus interrupted. "I _know_. Yet it does appear to be the only way to treat a ghost, especially one that is immobile. We must give it a try."

Gilderoy smiled. He simply loved it when Severus was passionate about something.

"Certainly, but I'd like to know some more before we try it on Sir Nicholas. He is not a guinea pig! And you know what Gamp says about Elemental Transfiguration of magical objects, especially Potions..."

"I am well aware of that," the Potions Master answered impatiently.

Clearly he did not approve at all when the Headmistress treated him like this, as though he still was a student she could lecture on the law and vocabulary of magic. Gilderoy's smile broadened into a grin. If that old hag did not want to lose her younger lover, she ought to be more careful.

Gilderoy had most certainly noticed the signs of increased tension in their relationship. He had seen how they almost avoided to be seen together in public, and how they had stopped spending leisure time together. No more chess matches, no walks in the Hogwarts grounds, and no visits to the 'Three Broomsticks'… Oh yes, Gilderoy had definitely noticed the effect of his improved looks and his delicate hints that he still was available…

"I have found two old texts that quote precedents," Severus said one moment later. "Unfortunately they are incomplete, but apparently if one uses a Stabilising Charm and simultaneously creates a stasis field around the Potion before transfiguring it – plus, I think if one added more Devil's Snare to the Potion Base…"

"You would need at least two persons doing the charmwork, but I admit that something like that might work – _might_. A regular Stasis Spell would prevent the transfiguration, though, but maybe with a modified Freezing Charm… we'll have to discuss this some more," Minerva pondered. "Can you show me those quotes you found?"

"Certainly, but not now. Filius must already be waiting for me."

Again, Gilderoy cheered silently when he heard the Potion Master's words. It was so good to hear how reluctant he was to spend time with Minerva.

"After your shift, maybe?" she answered. "Oh now, I can't, I am doing the seven-thirty to nine with one of the Prefects."

"Well, then you do have free time after nine o'clock," Severus replied.

One second later he looked as though he somewhat regretted saying that, really, watching the scene was so delightful for Gilderoy. Minerva suddenly looked equally uneasy.

"You know what that would – could – lead to," she said uncomfortably.

It did sound as though she was referring to a particularity nasty quarrel, or some other in-relationship problem. Severus just shrugged indifferently.

"Alright," she said. "I might drop by after my shift, and just for a very short time. I mean, if I leave at, say, half past nine, that cannot be that bad, right?"

"You're the Headmistress," Severus replied. "You make the rules."

He turned on the spot and left, his robes billowing dramatically. Gilderoy watched Minerva press her lips into a thin line, then she shook her head and left as well. The Defence Professor stepped out of his hiding place.

That little conversation had told him everything he needed to know.

His time had come. He had been lurking in the background for long enough, nothing more than a constant and beautiful reminder of what the Head of Slytherin House could have. But now was the perfect time to make his move. He knew when and where to find Severus, alone, and the other man would then most likely just have had a not-so-pleasant encounter with his boring and so much older partner…

Gilderoy decided that he would go to Severus's quarters sometime between ten and eleven o'clock. That left him enough time for a short nap, a relaxing bath, and to shave and re-do his hair. Tonight, he would look smashing.

At ten past eleven (choosing the perfect outfit had taken just a little bit longer than Gilderoy had expected; but now he was very happy with the burgundy velvet robes and cape) he made his was down to the dungeons. He was glad when he finally arrived; the Castle certainly was _creepy_ at night-time. But then again, maybe the way Gilderoy felt his heart throb was not due to anxiety, but to pleasant anticipation.

Gilderoy stopped outside Severus's office door and almost knocked, but then he hesitated. No, tonight he would not bother with subterfuges like work-related questions. Gilderoy moved on to the next door of the corridor, which he knew to lead to Severus's living room. Although he had not yet been there, he had naturally asked his house-elf of the day to describe the room situation to him. In love and war, one ought to be well-prepared.

Gilderoy knocked on the door.

Nothing happened. After maybe one minute, he knocked once more. Still nothing happened, but then, when Gilderoy uncertainly tried to flatten the collar of his robes – a nervous habit he had never quite broken – he heard a very quiet noise inside the room. Gilderoy knocked again, this time much louder.

The door was unlocked slowly, as though the person standing on the other side was hesitant to open. Gilderoy smiled reassuringly.

He was greeted back with a nervous smile, but the smile belonged to a house-elf.

"Tibby?" Gilderoy asked, honestly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Tibby is now working for Professor Snape," the small creature replied tensely.

She looked at Gilderoy with a certain level of mistrust, and he wondered for one second if that Memory Charm had maybe not worked properly. Possibly one needed different spells with house-elves?

But then Gilderoy saw something that immediately made him forget Tibby. The room was empty, but one door in the back was standing slightly ajar. This was _splendid_. Gilderoy had actually surprised the Potions Master in his bedroom!

His first impulse was to rush forward, but maybe venturing into the bedroom would be a too direct approach. No, it was better if Gilderoy did something to lure Severus to him. After all, he was an expert on attracting other people.

Gilderoy stepped into the living room and closed the door behind himself. Tibby watched him with big eyes.

"Well, that is nice," Gilderoy said lazily, employing his most seductive tone of voice. "Tibby, love, then we do have a common _very dear_ friend. Isn't that marvellous?"

Tibby cast her eyes on the ground. Just what was the matter with that dumb elf?

"Tibby," he went on, "don't be afraid. I do not hold it against you that you do not work for me any more. We must always forget negative events of the past, and _look forward_ to what _wonderful things_ the future will bring."

"Yes, sir," the small house-elf mumbled, almost inaudibly.

Gilderoy watched the creature, wondering just what was wrong with her. But he did not care too much. Gilderoy knew that the man in the bedroom must have heard his words, because he heard a person move and open the door.

Yes! This was it, the moment Gilderoy had so long waited for. He looked up and saw…

… Minerva McGonagall.

She was standing in the door to the bedroom as though she belonged there, without her spectacles, and with her long black hair undone. And, worst of all, not wearing anything but a white men's shirt and possibly (_hopefully!_) some underwear.

"Good evening, Gilderoy," she said pleasantly.

He just stared at her as though she was an apparition.

"Tibby is not allowed to speak to you, that is why she does not know what to do," the Headmistress explained.

Ah, yes, of course. Shortly after Tibby had been found drunk, Dumbledore had explained to Gilderoy that he could not have his own personal house-elves any more because Tibby had been too impressed with him.

Due to Gilderoy's good looks and his celebrity status, the old Headmaster had been afraid that the same might happen with any elf that saw Gilderoy regularly. It did make sense if the old wizard had forbidden Tibby to speak to him again; it was for her own good only.

The one thing that did not make sense was the presence of this half-naked witch in the Potions Master's rooms.

"You were… in the bedroom," Gilderoy finally stated, knowing full well that this certainly was not the most intelligent sentence he had ever uttered.

"That is where people usually go when they want to sleep," Minerva said.

"Yes, but – here?"

After all, he knew that she did not like to spend the night here. She had basically said so a few hours earlier!

"Do you… often…?" he stammered.

The Headmistress studied him for a moment, as though she was contemplating if it was worth answering that comment.

"I have slept in this bed before, and I do intend to return to it in a moment," she finally said. "So, if there is nothing else I can do for you…"

She smiled in a much too friendly way. Gilderoy hated her. That woman was definitely gloating with pleasure about his humiliation.

"Where is Severus?" he demanded to know.

"Working, I suppose."

She shrugged, throwing one short glace at the closed connecting door to the office.

"Then if he's busy, why are you – ?"

"Did I mention that I was tired?" Minerva replied impatiently. "Apparently Severus is not."

At that precise moment, Gilderoy heard the office door being opened. Of course, Severus walking in on that scene was just what he needed to complete this moment of mortifying humiliation.

The Head of Slytherin House leaned lazily against the door frame and took his time to look at Gilderoy, then at Tibby, and finally at Minerva. He raised his eyebrows slightly while studying her naked legs, then he looked at Gilderoy again.

"Someone," Severus said slowly, "might want to explain to me what is going on in my living room."

Tibby rushed forward.

"Master, please, Tibby only wants to help. Tibby tries not to speak to Professor Lockhart, really, Tibby is a good and obedient elf, sir!" she babbled hysterically.

"It's alright, Tibby," the Headmistress interrupted her gently. "You didn't do anything wrong."

She turned and looked at Severus, speaking calmly although her cheeks were unnaturally pink.

"Apparently Gilderoy here has decided to pay you a night-time visit," she explained, with just a hint of an ironic smile on her face.

"Tibby opened the door, and –"

"Tibby is thinking that Master is not hearing knocking, and it might be important, maybe one more attack and someone is needing Master's help!"

" – and then I heard that it was our dear Defence Professor. Tibby could of course not ask him to leave, so I had do go and help her," Minerva finished.

Severus looked at Tibby who was now sobbing frenziedly, and he smiled for just one brief moment. The elf relaxed visibly.

"You may go," he said, and Tibby darted out of the living room.

The Potions Master looked up and mustered Gilderoy with a cruel little smile on his lips.

"I see," he then said at length.

Minerva replied with an equally wicked smile.

"Naturally, I am sorry if I made a mistake in assuming you would want Gilderoy to go away," she said maliciously. "If you prefer his company, I am of course happy to leave you alone… his hair does look much better than mine, after all…"

Now THAT was enough. Gilderoy gasped for air. Embarrassment and awkwardness melted away and he felt nothing but white-hot fury instead. Absolutely _no one_ would make jokes about his beautiful, blond curls!

"I disagree," Severus said in the tone of one discussing something very serious, "I do prefer black."

"You _bastards_!" Gilderoy screamed. "You set me up, _again_! You knew that I was listening to you earlier, and you wanted to lure me here just to embarrass me once more!"

"You are doing a rather good job embarrassing yourself without any outside help," Severus objected.

"And what is this idea about setting you up?" Minerva added.

"Don't you play innocent now!" Gilderoy barked. "I know what is going on here. This is just the same as last time! What is it with you, do you get a kick out of demonstrating this disgusting affair?"

He watched the two other Professors exchange one look, but he did not fall for their feigned expressions of surprise and disbelief.

"Go on, go through with the show, I can hardly wait!" Gilderoy shouted.

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" Minerva asked.

"As if you didn't know!" he wailed. "You old hag, oh, don't you just love demonstrating how it is _you_ who can have him at any time! You love rubbing it in that he's _your_ kept boy, when he's so much younger and deserves somebody better…"

"Lockhart…" Severus said warningly, his voice suddenly very low and cold. He crossed the room and stood next to Minerva, as though he could thus prevent her from more insults.

But Gilderoy was too furious to care any more. If he could not have the Potions Master, he at least wanted to hurt his rival and spoil it all for her. It was time to open Severus's eyes and make him realise that Minerva only wanted to _own_ him.

"Come on, do go through with it!" Gilderoy roared. "Do kiss him like last time, do humiliate me by demonstrating all that passion, do show me that it is you who can make him moan! Go through with the show, and I swear you won't ever see me again!"

Gilderoy looked at the two of them, and he realised that he had maybe gone too far. Minerva just stared at him, apparently lost for words. Her mouth was nothing but a very thin line, and there were deep red blotches on her cheeks. And her eyes… Gilderoy had never seen a more furious expression. Thankfully she was not carrying her wand.

The Defence teacher now looked at Severus, who _was_ unfortunately carrying his wand. But he seemed to have forgotten about the possibility of cursing Gilderoy into the next century. Instead, it looked as though Gilderoy would receive a blow in the face any second now.

"Apologise," Severus hissed.

"No," Gilderoy said defiantly.

He did not really know why he refused. Gilderoy knew that he was a coward, and that he was in a room with two people who could possibly fry him with wandless magic before he could even begin remembering how to do a Shield Charm. But for once, his fury was strong enough to make him go on.

"No," he repeated, louder. "Severus, don't feel obliged to defend that hag. You cannot possibly want her, not _really_. I refuse to believe that."

"You don't know a thing about me, Lockhart," Severus replied.

Gilderoy swallowed. He knew that he was playing a dangerous game.

"I know you better that you know yourself," he said with false confidence. "You were acting when you kissed her that time in the library. You are _always_ acting when you touch her; _this is not what you want_."

"You don't ever give up, do you?" Minerva said disbelievingly.

Gilderoy noticed the trace of sadness in her slightly shaking voice. He knew that he was on the right track.

"Not when I know that I am right," he declared.

"You are not," Severus growled.

"Prove it."

The two men exchanged another furious glance. Gilderoy tried to radiate confidence although he knew that it probably was a good idea to leave soon. He had never before seen Severus that furious.

"Is that what it takes?" the Potions Master hissed. "You can have that if you swear you'll never come close to me again."

Lockhart nodded, but doubted that the other two paid any attention to him.

Obviously still livid with anger, Severus had turned around and taken Minerva's chin with his right hand. He made her look at him, and the Headmistress looked him levelly in the eyes although she had blushed again. Gilderoy was certain that she would kiss him, and willingly so, but there was something defiant about her whole expression.

Their lips were only an inch apart. Gilderoy sighed with annoyance and was just about to turn around and leave when he noticed something. The atmosphere in the room had changed. There was something about the way these two stared at each other. All of a sudden, there was a certain tension.

"No," Severus said after a long moment that felt like eternity, but still he did not move away.

His voice was softer, almost warm, and he spoke to Minerva only. He did not immediately let go of her face, but allowed his cruel grip to change into a gentler touch. Lastly, he stroked her cheek with one finger before finally letting go.

"No. Not for this pompous fool," he said.

"I quite agree," Minerva replied with a very nervous smile before she finally broke the eye contact.

She took one step beck and looked at Gilderoy, once more with an expression as though she was eying an extremely disgusting insect. But Gilderoy did not care. He looked at the expression on Severus's face, suddenly understanding why the other man had just refused to kiss the Headmistress.

"Can I leave it to you to sort this matter out?" she asked Severus. "I would like to go back to bed."

Her voice still sounded shaky, but Severus did not appear to notice. He nodded, and Minerva quickly went into the bedroom without another word. She immediately shut the door behind her.

Severus looked wearily at Gilderoy.

"You _do_ love her," Gilderoy said, much surprised. "This is not just some affair. You honestly love that woman."

"Not that it is any of your business, Lockhart, but I do. Even if I just failed to prove it to you."

"You didn't," Gilderoy replied, almost in a daze. "I expected to see you fake something, lust, passion, whatever, a desperate attempt to prove to yourself that you are happy with her. But I saw – care. Love."

Severus looked at him again, with those black eyes that Gilderoy so loved to look at. He had rapidly regained his self-control and now looked _almost _as if nothing had happened.

"Now that is a first," he said with his trademark sarcasm. "Gilderoy Lockhart saying something remotely intelligent."

"There is no need to mock me."

"There is no need to avoid it, either."

"She couldn't be, like, using a spell on you, or a Potion? Amortentia?"

"Minerva couldn't brew a decent Potion if her life depended on it," Severus snorted, but affectionately.

Gilderoy steadied himself on the back of the armchair. He felt totally exhausted.

"I could do with a drink now," he sighed, longing for that bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky he had upstairs in his office. "D'you think that elf could –"

"I will not summon Tibby to serve on you," Severus replied.

Gilderoy nodded, he had not really expected any kind of hospitality now. He looked at Severus again and saw that the other man looked equally exhausted, although Gilderoy did not quite understand why.

"There is some single malt in the cabinet over there," Severus said after a few seconds.

He gestured to a small cabinet in the corner of the room. Surprised, Gilderoy searched it and found a bottle of whisky – a Muggle product – and some glasses. He fixed himself a generous drink that he downed in three big gulps.

"You, too?" he asked belatedly, and was again surprised when Severus nodded.

Gilderoy fixed another drink for himself and one more for the Potions Master. When he handed him the glass, he noticed how Severus was careful not to touch his hand.

"You really don't like men," he said sadly.

Severus shook his head. "Really," he confirmed.

"You know that often homophobic men are in truth, deep down, somewhat curious…"

"I am not homophobic. I just despise _you_."

Gilderoy drank the rest of his whisky in silence and watched the other man out of the corner of his eyes. It was such a shame that he could not have him. But Gilderoy knew a lost case when he saw one. He just did not want to leave.

"I think I should better go," he said, sighing.

"I am waiting for that."

Somewhat angry, Gilderoy bit his lip. There really was no need for all that hostility after they had sorted that… _misunderstanding_ out. He felt bad enough already.

"Listen, could I kip here in your living room tonight?" he asked.

"What?!"

"No need to get angry," Gilderoy snapped. "It's just that… you know how we should not be on our own in the Castle at night-time…"

"You are afraid."

"Of course I'm not afraid, it's just that this is a rule and…"

"You are afraid," Severus repeated.

He looked at Gilderoy for a few long seconds, pondering something.

"My classroom," he then said.

"Hm?"

"I do not care the least bit if that monster attacks you," Severus said, cold enough for Gilderoy to understand that he was being absolutely honest.

"– but it would cause problems for Minerva. You can sleep in my classroom; just across the corridor."

Gilderoy's anger increased again. He knew that the Potions classroom was cold and uncomfortable, hardly a place where one could spend a decent night. This living room, on the other hand, was cosy enough, especially with that settee next to the fireplace. This was nothing but petty revenge.

He looked pointedly to that settee, a gesture that Severus ignored completely.

"Alright," Gilderoy forced himself to say. "Thank you. I really don't want to go back alone."

But he could not leave just like that. Gilderoy looked at the bedroom door again, and he felt a new surge of hatred. There she was, behind that door, and Severus would join her any minute now.

And they would not even allow him close by, no, he had to go and sleep in a cold dungeon room full of battered cauldrons and jars with disgusting Potion ingredients. All because of that old hag. It was not fair.

"You know, it is your decision," Gilderoy said. "But when I walk out of that door… this is your last chance. Forever. I won't come back, and I won't take you back even if you come begging."

"Feel free to leave," Severus replied.

Even his scorning attitude could not mask the fact that the Head of Slytherin House was troubled by something. For one second, Gilderoy hoped against hope that maybe he would after all receive an invitation to stay, just because Severus looked as though he could do with the company of a friend now.

"I mean it," Gilderoy insisted. "I really do."

"I certainly hope so."

Gilderoy gave up. Mustering up all what was left of his dignity, he walked out of the door. But just before closing it he turned around once more and looked at Severus, who was still standing in the middle of his living room. The Potions Master looked so very exhausted, and sad. Something not quite right here. But what?


	16. Deductive Reasoning, or Female Logic

**Chapter 15 – ****A Practical Application of Deductive Reasoning, or Female Logic**

_**(Poppy Pomfrey POV)**_

Poppy Pomfrey stood at the window of her small room next to the hospital wing and looked outside. It had been a glorious summer day, and the evening would be no less beautiful. Many of the students sat outside, but instead of playing they were studying – no doubt because their new Headmistress had in the morning reminded them that their final exams were only a week away.

The school matron smiled. That announcement had taken most students by surprise, and Poppy had had the impression that Minerva had somewhat _enjoyed_ acting the stern teacher. These days, she often seemed preoccupied, and even Minerva was not above being a little unkind once in a while – especially if there was a perfectly plausible excuse. Albus Dumbledore would have cancelled the exams. Minerva McGonagall would never dream of it.

Poppy returned to her living room when she heard a faint noise out in the corridor. She had invited her old friend for tea and expected the Headmistress any minute now. Poor Minerva really had a hard time running the school at present.

Poppy opened her door, but instead of her friend she found three students lurking in the hallway. The three boys were hiding behind the statue of a famous 17th-century healer whose name Poppy could never remember. One of these days she would have to look it up, _again_. The boys were watching something going on at the bottom of the stairs.

"Fred, George, Lee, what are you doing here?" Poppy asked.

Simultaneously, three faces bearing the same guilty expression looked up.

"Oh, it's you, Madam Pomfrey," Fred then said, showing relief.

The twins and their friend remained in their hiding place. Poppy frowned. Obviously she was too friendly with the students. Some teachers could have sent them running for their lives with a mere glance.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated, but turned around when she heard agitated, but not very loud voices on the stairs.

"Watching them," Lee Jordan said with a grin.

He pointed in the direction of the voices and Poppy finally noticed Minerva and Severus Snape standing at the bottom of the stairs. The two were so devoted to quarrelling about something that they had so far not noticed their audience.

"– and that coming from a witch who will buy low-quality and overpriced tea just because she thinks that the tartan pattern on the tin is so _bonnie_…" Severus was just saying, mimicking a Scottish brogue.

Even Poppy felt her lips twist in a smile when she saw Minerva's outraged expression. Lee and the twins frowned and snickered at the same time.

"Hate to admit it," George whispered, "but that's another one for him."

Fred nodded and scribbled something on a small piece of parchment. Poppy craned her neck to see what he was writing while Minerva drew in a sharp breath.

"And someone who _likes_ to be surrounded by pickled toads in jars at least half of his time ought not to judge other people's taste," she hissed.

George and Lee cheered silently, and Fred nodded again, this time more eagerly.

"Point for McGonagall," he said happily, making another note on his parchment.

"You are keeping score?" Poppy asked.

The three boys exchanged one glance before they apparently decided that Poppy was not a likely person to give them detention. Fred handed her the parchment with a crooked grin.

"Been doing it ever since Harry joined the Quidditch team and the famous Gryffindor-Slytherin Arguments became more frequent."

"Great entertainment," George agreed.

Poppy unfolded the parchment and fought to suppress a grin. There were several tally lists, each of them marked with a date. For May 25th, so far the Slytherin side was five ticks ahead.

"Apparently Professor Snape is winning today," she remarked.

"Ay," Lee agreed gruffly, "Usually they level out sooner or later, but he's been leading for two days now. I reckon it's all the stress on McGonagall."

"_Professor _McGonagall," Poppy corrected automatically.

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey."

Poppy handed the parchment back to Fred. She was a Hufflepuff, after all. Anything Slytherin-Gryffindor did not concern her.

"Boys, if you want my advice, make sure that Professor McGonagall _never_ gets to see this. And, for that matter, I think Professor Snape might not like it either."

"Course not," Fred said. "We're not suicidal. They might tell our mother."

"Speaking of danger, Madam Pomfrey, could you maybe –"

"– go back into your room –"

"– or hide with us here so you won't draw attention to us…"

The three boys grinned again. Poppy sighed. She knew that she ought to discipline them for this behaviour, but she liked it better when the students considered her a friend and, sometimes, an accomplice. It made it so much easier for the children to come to her with injuries they had received because of magic that was clearly against the school rules.

She winked at the students and was rewarded with three bright smiles; then Poppy returned into her room. She tried to close the door as quietly as possible, but maybe not quietly enough. Only three seconds later, she heard a sharp voice outside.

"Weasley, Weasley, and Jordan, come here this instant!"

Poppy shrugged. She felt sorry for the boys, but there was no way to help them now. They would have to face the Caledonian Incarnation of Wrath.

A few minutes later, Poppy heard the familiar staccato of Minerva's footsteps outside.

"Come in!" she called.

Minerva stormed into the room and shut the door with a bang. Then she let herself drop into the next chair and closed her eyes.

"Poppy, do you have something for a headache? I feel awful," she said miserably.

"Certainly, wait a second. What happened?"

"Severus Snape! He just gave five points to Gryffindor because –"

"Well, five points is not that bad…" Poppy murmured while rummaging through her private medical cabinet. "Wait, did you just say he _gave_ points to Gryffindor?"

"Yes. Five."

"Ah, yes, naturally I can see the problem," Poppy could not resist replying.

This had to be a first. Even by thinking very hard Poppy could not remember a single occasion when Severus might have given points to Gryffindor House.

"Honestly, how dare he do that… just to annoy me…" Minerva rambled on.

Poppy showed her a small bottle with a clear, greenish liquid.

"There. I'll put some in your tea, it's flavourless. One teaspoon ought to be enough."

"Thank you."

Poppy prepared their tea and sat down opposite her friend. Minerva clearly was stressed-out.

"Why did he do it, though?" Poppy asked carefully.

"I don't know exactly," Minerva sighed. "The Weasley twins and Jordan were outside in the corridor, up to something. Fred had this parchment he tried to hide, and Severus summoned it. I don't know what it said but Severus smiled and then he awarded Fred five points – 'for accurate calculations'. He did it just because he knew I was about to reprimand the boys."

"Irritating you by giving points to Gryffindor is a new method, though," Poppy said. "You have to give Severus credit for being creative."

"I will not give him any credit. I _hate_ him."

"You don't hate him," Poppy answered, gently teasing the other witch. "You like him a lot more than you're ready to admit."

A few seconds passed, and Minerva just stared at Poppy. Then she suddenly hid her face in her hands and Poppy wondered if she had started to cry. She had hardly ever seen her friend that upset.

"Great Merlin, Poppy, I don't know what to do any more," Minerva whispered desperately.

"What is it, dear?" Poppy asked, although she suddenly had a very good idea what was going on.

Minerva did not reply, but continued to hide behind her hands. Poppy drank another sip of her tea and then set the cup down.

"Minerva. Look at me."

Slowly, Minerva raised her face. She had not cried, but nevertheless took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes and temples as though her headache had grown worse.

"You know, that Potion is not going to help you if you do not drink it," Poppy said, pointing to Minerva's tea.

Obediently, the Headmistress drank one sip. Her hands were trembling.

"Now, is there anything you'd like to tell me?" Poppy asked gently.

"No."

"Minerva, I am not Pomona. I know when _not_ to joke about a certain subject. So would you tell me what happened?"

Minerva still hesitated, but Poppy knew she would eventually answer. That woman was in desperate need to talk.

"I've made a terrible mistake," she whispered at long last. "I did something entirely inappropriate."

"That is hard to imagine."

"I mean it. I…"

Minerva paused again, still not quite able to speak about what had happened. Poppy grew increasingly curious.

"I… I may have slept one or two nights in his bed… _alone_, mind you!"

"One _or _two nights?"

"Alright, three."

"I see," Poppy nodded. "And, naturally, you had a very good reason for –"

"Poppy, I am not in the mood for sarcasm."

"I didn't mean to sound sarcastic. Is there anything else I should know?"

Minerva shook her head, but a little too eagerly. As a school matron Poppy had seen that kind of reaction many times before; usually on the nervous faces of teenage girls who were too embarrassed to admit certain things.

"Something compels me not to believe you," she stated.

"He… he almost kissed me two days ago."

"And that is a bad thing?"

"Of course it is!" Minerva looked up. "Well, it is a good thing that he did not actually do it, but the whole situation…"

"Could you give me some more details here?"

It took almost fifteen minutes until Poppy had finally heard the whole story. Several times, it needed a considerable effort to maintain a serious and empathic expression on her face. It would have been so damn funny if… well, if Minerva had not been that upset.

Finally, the Headmistress leaned back in her armchair and drank some more of her now-cold tea. She seemed to have calmed down a little, but still looked preoccupied.

"So there are two problems now," Poppy finally said.

"Two? I had only thought of this as one big problem that I don't know how to solve."

"Two. No, _three_ really," Poppy insisted. "This is a three-level predicament."

"If you say so…"

"First," Poppy explained, "there is the friendship aspect. You two have truly become friends, and the way I see it that is a positive development."

"Mm. Yes, of course it is."

"Then, we have all that unresolved sexual tension."

"Poppy…"

"Don't you even _think_ about denying that! You haven't had a partner in ages, and we know Severus is a very lonely man. This whole thing started on Valentine's Day when both of you played your parts a little too eagerly. – And recently you've increased this tension by spending the nights together."

"Not _together_," Minerva protested feebly.

"In close proximity, alright? Together in his rooms, and at least one of you was not wearing enough. – And then, as though that was not enough already, there is the third problem."

"And what would that be?"

"That this is, as far as you are concerned, not only about _liking_ Severus, which is perfectly alright – and _wanting_ him, which also is quite alright…" Poppy tried to be gentle with her friend. "You _care_ for him a little more than you think appropriate."

Minerva stared at Poppy with her mouth standing slightly open. Eventually she became aware that it _was_ fixed in this position and attempted to shut it, but her shock still was evident. Her silence spoke volumes.

"I do realise this is a difficult situation," Poppy said quietly.

Her friend nodded. Poppy noticed the slight change in her expression, she now looked a little less preoccupied and instead, a slight frown line on her forehead indicated anger.

"It _is_ nice to finally hear someone admitting that," Minerva said bitterly.

"We did tease you a little too much," Poppy admitted. "That was not quite… proper."

"I do apologise," Poppy added after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

"It's alright," Minerva said edgily, both accepting and dismissing the apology with an impatient gesture. "If you want to be helpful, tell me what to do now."

"How… how _serious_ is this for you?"

Minerva sighed.

"If I only knew that... Look, I am very happy about this friendship aspect, and I don't want to lose that. I also admit that I find Severus… attractive."

She paused and shook her head as though she could that way get rid of the very idea. A touch of pink on her cheeks indicated that she was not very successful so far.

"But concerning that, I can behave myself. I know I can. As for the other… emotions… this is a fairly new development. I am not even quite certain if this is not just bonding because we've spent more time together than usual, or if maybe Lockhart is actually right and I was vainly proud of the fact that Severus chose me over him, even if he only pretended…"

"Now you're rambling. When did you realise that you are in love?" Poppy interrupted bluntly.

Minerva blushed in a lovely shade of dark magenta that did not suit her at all.

"When he passed me the tea."

Poppy laughed out loud, she could not help it. Minerva rewarded her with the kind of angry glare that was usually reserved for first-years giggling in class.

"I am sorry," Poppy gasped. "Do you realise that just about _anything_ else would have been more romantic?"

"_So_ sorry if I cannot provide a better story. It did happen like that, after the first night I spent there, and then at the breakfast table… I just saw his eyes and… dear Merlin, I do sound like a besotted teenage girl!"

"It's been a while since I heard you speak like that," Poppy agreed.

"You still haven't given me any advice. You used to be quite good at that."

Poppy got up from her seat and prepared some fresh tea. Doing things manually always helped her think. She did know what advice she wanted to give her friend, actually Poppy expected that Minerva already knew what advice she wanted to hear. But it was difficult to find the right words.

"Do you know why I did support this idea of an affair – in those first weeks after Valentine's Day?" the school matron asked at long last.

"Honestly, no."

"Because I did think for a while that you two could work out. You are a strange couple, but you are definitely attracted to each other. That night, when you came back from London – Minerva, you did not see how Severus looked at you when he thought he was alone. He was… _amazed_, and he did definitely like what he was seeing. It was easy to mistake that for love."

"Absolutely nothing happened that night in London. Well, nothing romantic at any rate. We just talked about this and that."

"About what, exactly?"

Minerva hesitated, but this time it was not embarrassment that made her waver.

"His past," she finally said. "I am sorry, Poppy, but I could not repeat that without his permission."

"Meaning he confessed something, and knowing what little I know about Severus's past it was not cheque fraud," Poppy concluded. "This is what I mean. It was obvious that you two had gotten closer somehow, and that he was quite impressed with your response to whatever he confessed. And, do let me repeat that, he did like the way you looked."

"I still don't quite follow you."

"It appeared as though you – both of you – were either about to seriously fall in love, or at least take up some 'friends with benefits' affair. And that could have worked out."

"But now you do not believe that any more," Minerva stated firmly.

Poppy saw how her friend had forced herself to speak these words in a calm and controlled manner.

"No, dear, now I do not believe that any more," she admitted. "Look, I still believe that he finds you quite attractive. The way you described that almost-kiss, that whole moment was – passionate."

"But he does not love me."

"I am afraid not. Minerva, I am so sorry…"

Minerva interrupted the school matron with an impatient wave of her right hand. She had closed her eyes and bit on her lower lip, but it only took her seconds to rearrange that mask of calm composure. In spite of herself, Poppy was impressed. She knew that she would have started crying at that point.

"No, don't be sorry. You are perfectly right," Minerva said tensely. "_He does not love me_, otherwise he would not have hesitated but would have used that chance. And you know what, I _am_ glad that he did not kiss me. Any kind of relationship between us is just… oh, there are thousands of reasons against it, even if we both wanted it."

"You would ruin an unusual and precious friendship," Poppy agreed. "Not to mention the fact that you'd cause quite a scandal."

"Exactly. For Merlin's sake, he was my _student_! He's half my age, I still don't know very much about his past, and... I know that I ought not even think about it."

Both witches fell silent. Poppy avoided looking at her friend, knowing that Minerva was right now working very hard on that façade of equanimity. It was the way the new Headmistress dealt with unwanted feelings and desires. She would deny them until they had died in her heart.

"I think I will go back to my office now," Minerva said after a few minutes. "I am still not entirely happy with question five of the third-years Transfiguration Exam for next week."

"And I need to check on my patients before dinner," Poppy replied.

They stood up and walked to the door together. There, Minerva stopped for a moment.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"Thank you for telling me," Poppy replied. "I was worried about you – well, I still am. But I know you will manage."

"Yes, I will."

"You might want to stop – you know, spending the nights. I realise it is a way of being closer to him, but really it's just self-torture."

"I _had_ resolved to do that after the first night already, but then…" Minerva sighed. "But you're right. It won't happen again."

"Otherwise I do think it quite likely that you two will end up sharing that bed, and then… you'll really be in trouble," Poppy said sternly.

The deep blush on the other witch's face told Poppy that she had been thinking along the same lines, and that her thoughts had probably included a lot more graphic details. Minerva nodded and left quickly.


	17. Exit, Pursued by a Basilisk

_A/N: Several people have asked why I called Minerva 'Headmistress' from chapter 14 on._

_Fact is that on May 8__th__ 1993, Albus Dumbledore was removed from his position as Headmaster (and did willingly accept this dismissal). There was no explicit appointment of a new Headmaster (Draco remarks on this during Potions Class); meaning that the old Deputy Headmistress simply moved up in rank and took over Dumbledore's duties._

_When Dumbledore returned in the night of May 29__th__/30__th__, the school governors declared their old decision as void because they had been threatened by Lucius Malfoy. Dumbledore then took over again, not as 'the rightful Headmaster' like in OotP, but instead simply the old status quo was re-created._

_While the Hogwarts staff members may have expected something like that to happen, they did in the meantime still accept Minerva McGonagall as the rightful Acting Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House in dual role. I therefore maintain that she has every right to be referred to as 'Headmistress' during those three weeks when Dumbledore was gone._

– _Frank

* * *

_

**Chapter 16 – Exit, Pursued by a Basilisk**

_**(Minerva McGonagall POV)**_

Minerva paced from her bedroom to her living room and back again, feeling like a tiger locked into a too small cage. She had been going to and fro like this for maybe half an hour. It was almost three o'clock in the morning, and she had given up any hope of getting some sleep.

That talk with Poppy on Tuesday afternoon had done her good. The school matron really was a dear old friend, and she definitely knew her share of psychology. It had impressed Minerva how she had immediately figured out the different aspects of what troubled her.

The course of action was now clear – maintain the friendship, avoid inappropriate encounters, and forget about any emotions that a man thirty-something years younger could not possibly reciprocate.

It all sounded so very simple, and yet it was… almost impossible. Minerva knew that it would be very hard to uphold this new and wonderful friendship if she avoided being alone with Severus. And, unfortunately, she had to avoid this if she wanted to steer clear of any situation that might lead to… more.

Because that was the main problem, wasn't it? Poppy had even been observant enough to spot that little detail. Minerva knew that she was not the only one who did once in a while wonder what it would be like to be in the Potion Master's bed when he also was present.

(Present not only in his quarters, but in the very same room, that is. To be even more precise, in the same bed. And alright, she did ask herself that very question more often than just 'once in a while.')

Minerva shook her head. Oh yes, she knew what was going on, after all she was not an innocent school-girl any more.

(Yes indeed, in _her_ days school-girls had still been innocent, for the most part at least. Nowadays…)

Minerva's major concern was the fact that Severus _did _seem to find her attractive.

(Inexplicably so. The younger teachers, like Aurora or Bathsheba, looked much better. Even if they giggled all the time.)

She had definitely noticed the way he had looked at her, standing half-naked in his bedroom door. And then, when he had held her face with this fierce and almost cruel grip… yes, that had been _real_ passion. That fire in his black eyes had not only been anger about the bother known as Lockhart, there had also been a fair share of lust and desire included. He had _wanted_ to kiss her, that much was obvious.

She was glad that he had had common sense enough not to do it. Minerva knew how she would have reacted. Her whole body had screamed 'yes'. There was no way around the fact that she would have responded passionately, and that they would most likely have ended up in that narrow bed…

(Ahem. Stop that train of thought right there.)

It was a damned _good_ thing that nothing had happened. In the next morning, Minerva would have been heart-broken, because _she_ was in love. Friends with benefits – that would have been fine only weeks ago. Now that she had realised she wanted more… it was impossible.

Severus must also have realised that he had crossed a line with that almost-kiss. They had, of course, never spoken of it.

He had slept in his living room and had left for breakfast very early in the morning. Tibby had come to wake Minerva (unnecessarily, since she had only pretended to sleep) and in the past few days, not one personal word had been exchanged between the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor.

To make up for this (too) close encounter they had even quarrelled a little more than usual. Both of them had made a great effort to irritate the other one with meaningless trifles, and essentially this attempt to re-establish their old relationship of cordial rivalry had worked to some degree.

Poppy was right. Minerva had vowed not to spend another night in Severus Snape's quarters. She would not any more torture herself with the delusion that she could be close to him.

And so far, she had kept to that resolution. Even today, when dear old Konrad Kettleburn had unknowingly provided the perfect excuse by asking if they still were working on a way to un-petrify Sir Nicholas, and Severus had replied that they were basically done, but that he intended to do one last test later in the night…

Minerva knew that she had made a sensible, and therefore right, decision. Insomnia was a small price to pay for that.

She stomped her foot so loudly that her portrait of Godric Gryffindor woke up. He complained gruffly and then walked out of his frame, probably intending to go and sleep in one of the blank canvasses that were stored in the attic. Minerva knew that he sometimes spent the nights there when he – or she – was in a bad mood.

That lucky bastard. At least he was free to leave and roam about the castle at any time. Minerva was locked up in her quarters because… well, just because of a stupid rule that had been made up to protect the prefects and some of the, erm, not-so-skilled teachers like Sybill.

It was not as though Minerva could not defend herself. She had been an Auror for many years, had _trained_ other Aurors and then fought in an actual war. The vague possibility of facing a monster was one thing, but facing another sleepless night in her own rooms was another thing entirely.

She would go and do one last round of patrolling. _Alone_. Minerva returned to her bedroom and dressed quickly. Ten minutes later, she left her rooms and went in the direction of the Ravenclaw Tower. She would patrol every floor of the castle, from top to bottom. That ought to help take her mind off certain things.

A good twenty minutes later Minerva decided that wandering through the empty corridors did help her calm down, even though the castle lacked much of its usual charm. The hallways were barely lit and appeared gloomy. At this time in the night, not even the ghosts patrolled any more.

The students were in their dormitories and the staff members had locked themselves into their private rooms. And yet, the castle felt unsafe. Minerva had this certain feeling of apprehension, a cat-like sense of foreboding that the Heir of Slytherin and his monster had not yet made their final move.

She was walking down the long corridor on the first floor when she heard the faintest noise coming from the main staircase. Minerva stopped and listened. There… it was a soft rustling sound, as though something dry and heavy was being shifted on a smooth surface. The sound was inconsistent, rising and ebbing in an almost unnoticeable way.

Minerva transformed into her cat shape and ran noiselessly to the source of the sound. When she reached the stairs, there was nothing to be found except for some caked mud.

But there was a smell… she wrinkled her small cat nose in disgust. The creature had already moved on, but it had left a track smelling of mouldy water and small decaying animals one would expect to find in a dirty sewer. It masked the body odour of the monster itself, but Minerva could make out a few traits. She smelled parched, leathery skin and the foul breath of a carnivorous animal, and… age. The creature _smelled_ old, like some of the older Thestrals or the dragons that were kept in the dungeons under Gringotts.

The tabby cat felt the hair on her back bristle. A _dragon_. She sniffed around some more. That dislikeable Martin Miggs had been right. Minerva smelled a reptilian body odour, although she could not quite make out what kind of dragon it might be.

There was more mud and some water, actual puddles on the stairs. The monster had left a track. Minerva followed it downstairs and noticed how the scent grew stronger. Now there also was a faint, sour note that suggested poison. She had to be very careful.

It was almost completely dark in the Entrance Hall. Even with her sharp cat eyes Minerva could not spot the monster, but then she heard it again. It was there, lurking behind two pillars. Now she could even make out a vague shadow moving in the darkness.

Minerva went even closer, taking cover behind statues and pillars. And then, the shadow suddenly stopped moving and hissed. The beast had spotted her. Minerva froze in her tracks.

Now she could hear the creature breathe. It sniffed the air like she had done, scanning what kind of a being she might be. And suddenly Minerva remembered Draco Malfoy's triumphant voice, shouting that one inappropriate word that Minerva so detested. _Enemies of the heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!_

Mudbloods. The creature probably tried to figure out whether she was to be considered an enemy of the heir. Knowing that it would attack cats – poor Mrs Norris was proof enough of that – Minerva changed back into her human shape. Maybe this dragon could smell that she was a pure-blood.

The creature hissed again. It was a harsh sound, like the attempted shout of a person who had lost their voice. Minerva tried to control her fear and stepped out behind the statue, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She immediately performed a non-verbal Shield Charm and kept her wand raised, ready to strike if necessary.

The monster stirred behind the pillars. She heard scaly skin scrape on the floor. A heavy body moved closer, in a slithering, oddly swaying motion. It was too small for a dragon, but too large and heavy for a snake. A Lindworm, possibly.

Minerva swallowed hard while the beast came closer. She could still not quite make it out in the shadows. Transforming back into human shape had the disadvantage that she lost her more perceptive cat senses. Lindworms… she had thought them extinct, like Wyverns. But this one apparently had survived, entombed somewhere in a secret chamber in Hogwarts, biding its time.

There was only one thing Minerva knew for sure about Lindworms: they liked water. The thing it would fear most was, hopefully, fire.

With a flick of her wand, Minerva created a ring of fire around herself. The Lindworm, or whatever it was, reacted by emitting another loud, raspy hiss. It had come closer, but did seem to shy away from the flames – for now. Thrashing its long tail, it halted its progress.

Minerva drew in a deep breath, forcing herself not to cough in the smoke. The fire provided protection, but it also blinded her. Through the lambency of bright yellow and orange flames she could barely detect what was going on in the dark Entrance Hall around her. She closed her eyes, concentrating only on her sense of hearing to make out where the Lindworm was.

There creature was somewhere ahead of Minerva, still slithering around in an agitated manner. And trough the cackling of her fire, Minerva heard another sound, an entirely unexpected one: footsteps behind herself.

"It is directly in front of you, about fifteen feet away," Severus said. "Lower the flames behind you."

Minerva did so, willing the protective ring of fire to open up behind her for one moment. Severus quickly moved to stand next to her and then cast an identical fire shield around them. The flames roared higher. Minerva felt the heat on her face.

"What do you think it is?" he asked.

His tone of voice was conversational, but Minerva could hear the underlying tension and excitement. She looked at him for a short moment and saw the reflection of the flames in his black eyes.

"A Lindworm," she said. "It's too small for a full-grown dragon, and I did not detect any wings. It smells of water."

He nodded. Minerva tried to look for the monster again, squinting through the smoke and the flames. All she could make out was a large body, a thrashing tail, and some dark-green scales glittering in the shades.

Severus touched her arm, distracting her from her efforts.

"Maybe it is better that we cannot see it properly. Remember what Miggs said about the eyes?"

"Deadly eyes… yes, you are right. Eye contact might not be a good idea."

"Just as a precaution…" Severus paused and looked at the floor, listening intensely. "It is coming closer again."

Just an instant later, they saw the enormous body once more. The Lindworm had raised itself high up in the air and then swung forward as if trying to attack the flames. It immediately recoiled, and the long tail swished through their flame shield for the fraction of a second. Both of them had to jump a few feet back to avoid being hit.

The Lindworm hissed angrily, and Minerva smelled burnt flesh and charred horn scales. Judging by its excited movements, the beast was in pain and now even more aggressive.

"This is a _dark_ creature," Severus whispered, almost admiringly.

Minerva nodded. This being definitely was _evil_. It did respect their fire shield to some degree, but now it was wounded and even more agitated. Blind with hurt and rage, it would attack again.

"We need to get away from here," Severus said. "We cannot fight it."

"No, not alone," Minerva agreed.

Her fear and terror were now increasing by the second. Frantically, she searched her mind for ways to battle such a monster. For the classic spell against dragons, a Conjunctivitis Curse, they would need to see the creature's eyes – which was impossible through all that smoke, and might also be dangerous.

If she attempted to Transfigure the beast, she would need a being that big to stop moving around, so that meant they would have to bind it by using a Freezing or Stunning Spell… and for most dragons one needed at least six or seven of these spells cast simultaneously.

Plus, the beast did obviously not even shy away from _two_ fire shields. Even if only one of them fought and the other one would maintain the protective ring of fire around them, that might not suffice.

"Can you lift the enchantment that prevents us from Disapparating?" Severus asked.

"Not here. I'd need to be in the Headmaster's office."

"Then we have to run for it. And distract the beast in the meantime."

"Where to? Lindworms are said to be incredibly fast. It would catch up immediately."

Minerva looked around, anxiously searching for a safe hiding place. The stairs were too far away, so were the Front Doors and the connecting door to the Great Hall. But there was a small exit in the wall on their right…

"The staff room," she exclaimed. "That is close enough. We'll create a higher fire wall to delay it for a few seconds, before the hunting instinct sets in."

The Lindworm came closer again. Minerva heard it hissing on the other side of the ring of fire. Merlin, it was snapping at the flames. This creature was not afraid of anything, and it would hunt its prey down.

Both of them stared at the beast, all caution forgotten. Fortunately, the thick smoke still veiled the monster.

"Regular fire will not hold it off," Severus said tensely. "We need something else… Fiendfyre…"

Minerva stared at him, uncertain if he was serious about this. Only few people had ever cast a Fiendfyre spell and lived to tell the tale.

"That will turn on us as well," she objected.

"Yes," Severus admitted.

She looked at his face, unflinching and defiant. And so very pale, even in the warm light of the flames that surrounded them. Minerva swallowed hard, trying to master her fear.

"Alright," she said.

"When I tell you to," Severus ordered, "you will run – _without any delay_. And if we do reach the staff room, we will need to lock the door behind us and enforce it immediately."

"Yes."

"Then –"

Minerva tensed, waiting for the command to run. She intensified the regular fire shield around them and tried to hold it in place while Severus concentrated on the other curse.

The Potions Master turned to face the monster once more and closed his eyes. He waved his wand while casting the spell non-verbally. Then, there was a loud cracking noise and flames erupted out of the tip of his wand. A large ball of fire appeared in the air, fire that soon took on the form of hands and claws, and of beastly faces with open mouths and long teeth, their flame tongues lashing out…

The heat was intense, much stronger that the warmth that a regular fire radiated. Now the ball of fire expanded and fell to the floor. The fire fiends grew in size and strength. A spidery creature of white-hot flames tried to get hold of Severus's robes. He forced it back with another flourish of his wand.

The Lindworm had raised itself up again, but did not dare to cross the rapidly growing field of Fiendfyre. Severus tried to direct the flames to the monster, but Minerva saw that he would not be able to control the fire for much longer. The heat was almost impossible to bear. Minerva extinguished the ring of normal fire around them.

Two more fiery beasts appeared in the centre of the Fiendfyre, larger and even more aggressive than the others. One took on the shape of an enormous bird of prey and immediately went after the Lindworm. Minerva barely registered how the beast reacted, she was to busy watching the other fire creature. A large chimera of white and blue flames advanced on them. It flicked its long tail and roared, exposing a mouth full of fiery teeth…

"Now!" Severus yelled and turned on the spot. His left hand grabbed Minerva's right upper arm and he pulled her with him. They ran for their lives.

The door to the staff room was only about twenty feet away, but it felt like the longest distance Minerva had ever had to cross. She did not bother to look behind her; the intense heat on her back told her that the fire chimera was following them. Still running, she cast a charm to throw the door open. Severus cast another spell over his shoulder, and Minerva heard water behind them. Perhaps an Aguamenti would delay the chimera, although Minerva doubted that it would impress the creature much.

Together, they ultimately reached the door and rushed into the small staff room. Both of them stumbled, and still supporting each other, they turned around to face the door. The chimera was only five feet away, and behind it was a large and scaly body. Apparently the Lindworm had also come closer, although it was hard to tell whether it was fleeing from the flames or had joined the hunt for human prey.

Simultaneously, they cast another spell to close and lock the door. It slammed shut in the face of the approaching chimera, and then they heard a loud banging sound that indicated the impact of a heavy body. The monster of Slytherin had also crashed against the door, but the heavy oak protected them for now.

All of a sudden, it was pitch-dark. There was no light in the room except for a few dying embers in the hearth, mere reminders of the merry fire that warmed the staff room even on summer days. But Minerva's eyes were now accustomed to the inferno in the Entrance Hall. It felt as though she had suddenly been blinded.

She did not move, but stared at where she knew the door to be in the darkness. Severus also stood frozen, still holding on to her arm in a protective manner. From the other side of the door, they heard the roaring and cackling of the blazing fire. The wooden door would not withstand such heat for more than one or two minutes.

Minerva concentrated, willing herself to calm down. She still was shaking all over, probably an after-effect of the adrenaline rush. Raising her wand once again, she aimed at where she knew the door to be and transfigured the wood into a thick, fire-resistant wall.

Then everything was quiet. Not even dragons and Fiendfyre could penetrate a solid brick wall.

They were safe.

Minerva released a breath she had not even known she was holding. She wished that her body would stop shivering, because then Severus would probably let go of her instead of still holding on to her.

But of course he did nothing of that kind. Instead, his left arm now even crept around her shoulders, drawing her closer, comforting her in an awkward but most welcome manner… damn that man for being perceptive when she did not want him to.

"Well done," he said in a very low voice.

"You, too," Minerva whispered back, still a little breathless. "I never thought I would one day see Fiendfyre…"

"There is a first time for everything."

She had relaxed during the short exchange. His comforting touch felt good, much too good, and she loved to hear his voice. Very slowly, Minerva rested her head against Severus's chest for just one moment; just _one_ short and guilty moment of bliss…

He did not move a muscle, and did not say a word, but simply continued to hold her with his left arm around her shoulders. Minerva heard his heartbeat, faster than she would have expected it, thudding on and on. She could have stayed like that forever, just listening to this beautiful, rhythmic sound of life.

Minerva sighed softly, knowing that she had to break away. She _could_ not allow herself to be comforted like this. Her mind won over her heart and with a great effort, she freed herself and stepped away from him.

Playing her part as the Transfiguration expert once more, Minerva examined the brick wall she had created a minute ago. She just needed something, _anything_, to distract her. Her eyes had not yet quite grown used to the darkness in the staff room, but she could already make out vague shapes. Her fingers felt over the rough surface of the wall. It was warm, but would withstand the fire on the other side.

"That was close," she said.

She had meant to refer to their escape, but realised now that the words had a dual meaning. Minerva felt her face grow hot, suddenly grateful for the darkness that still surrounded them.

"Too close," he replied after a very long moment.

And then, Minerva felt two gentle hands that pushed her back against the wall. A split second later, Severus Snape pressed his lips against hers for the second time in her life.

Minerva was at a loss how to respond. A small moan escaped her when his kiss grew more intense. She wanted nothing more than to return this passionate kiss, but her rational mind told her that this was not the right thing to do.


	18. Search for Pleasure, Search for Pain

**Chapter 17 – Search for Pleasure, Search for Pain**

_**(Severus Snape POV)**_

Severus cursed himself the moment their lips touched. This was a big, _big_ mistake.

Minerva's lips were soft, and moist, and felt so incredibly perfect pressed against his own. Or rather, they _would_ have felt perfect if she had responded instead of standing frozen with shock.

He had lost control. He had entirely lost control over his actions, had simply stepped forward and started to kiss her although he knew that she did not reciprocate his feelings.

All of his resolves to act normal had melted away just because she had been trembling, and had for five seconds accepted his clumsy attempt to comfort her after their narrow escape – Great Merlin, her behaviour had been an ordinary post-stress reaction, and certainly not an invitation for passionate kisses!

And yet, he could not stop just like this. He _had_ to kiss her now, simply had to hold her in his arms to verify her presence in this dark room; needed to actually _feel _that she was alive and well after encountering this dragon or whatever it was. And those soft lips tasted so damn good.

Before the fight, when he had seen her in the Entrance Hall, surrounded by a ring of flames, his heart had almost stopped.

Severus was not one to shy away from danger, but to see this woman in mortal peril… that had been his undoing. No wonder that something had snapped inside of him; and that he now acted like a teenage boy under the influence of raging hormones, outside the realm of his normal self-control.

Minerva still did not move. At least she had not pushed him away, but that was probably just because she was too surprised. With deliberate effort, Severus eventually stopped kissing her and forced himself to step a few inches back.

He was grateful for the darkness in the room. Despite not being able to see her face, he could very well imagine the shocked expression there.

Now what? The moment seemed to stretch forever, although he knew that it only was seconds passing. Every single one of them felt like an eternity.

Couldn't she say something, _anything_, please, just to break this awkward and embarrassed mood? Severus certainly did not know what to do or say right now.

Another five long seconds passed, and still neither of them moved.

And then Minerva McGonagall kissed him back.

It was the one reaction he had not expected, and Severus was not prepared fur such a sudden and forceful assault. The sensation was rather like being pounced on by a small tiger, although more pleasant.

_Much _more pleasant.

She kissed him back with such predatory force and passion that it almost hurt. His hands sneaked down her back and he drew her closer, holding her so tight that breathing became difficult.

This had to be a dream. Severus knew that Minerva did not love him, _knew_ it. How could she possibly? But apparently, inexplicably, she did not mind physical contact.

He claimed her mouth in a hard, almost bruising kiss, and was rewarded by two arms that snaked around his hips. As their lips met, he was aware that he was groaning with pleasure and that Minerva was making soft whimpering sounds.

He could not believe it. He was kissing the Head of Gryffindor House, forceful and yet trying to be gentle, savouring the taste of her lips and tongue while his hands sneaked up into her hair… and she obviously enjoyed it as well.

For the briefest of moments, he disengaged and gasped for air. Then he continued to kiss her, coaxing, licking, softly nipping those moist lips. The tips of their tongues met playfully. This was the most hypnotic kiss he had ever enjoyed.

Severus pushed her against the wall and proceeded to kiss her cheeks and neck. She released a soft moaning sound, almost liked a purring cat. This time, she was the one who pulled him closer, her hands on his hips.

He placed small kisses all along that delicate jaw line, and then on her throat. Her body scent was intoxicating, mixed with that light, unobtrusive perfume she always wore, and that pleasantly exciting smell of smoke and fire. Her skin tasted fresh and slightly salty.

Severus slipped his left arm around her back. Minerva sighed again, and he felt her bury her face in his neck, proceeding to kiss and lick his skin there. When she hit a particularly ticklish spot, he felt a shudder run down his spine. This soft and warm pressure of her lips felt so incredibly good.

She held on to him so firmly that he could not possibly have drawn back even if he had wanted to. He kissed her temple, and when she looked up, he kissed her mouth again, softer and more careful this time. His tongue darted between her lips, licking them greedily, savouring the contact.

Minerva response was so fiery that it almost shocked him... and the taste of her lips was positively addictive, seductively intoxicating, more powerful than any drug could ever be. Severus lost all awareness of time; he was paralysed with pleasure.

Damn, he knew that she did not love him. _Knew_ it. Why was he doing this?

Small hands wandered all over his body, thoroughly exploring every - yes, _every_ - square inch that was in easy reach. The exquisite sensations felt so good that he grew dizzy. It was so perfect, so ideal, so unlike anything he had felt in years. It had been much too long since he had last been touched like that, by a woman who truly wanted him and not just the money he paid for her assistance.

Severus had to remind himself to breathe. Trying to hold on to coherent thought became increasingly difficult as he felt those warm hands undo the fastenings of his robe and pull the heavy material away. He heard a groan of approval when the fabric dropped to the ground behind his back, and barely registered the noise as his own. Clever fingers, working with insidious proficiency, started to unbutton his shirt.

"Wait… slow down…" he whispered, noticing that his voice sounded ridiculously hoarse.

She stopped, her hands lingering there on his chest, two fingertips light as feathers touching his bare skin. Great Merlin, he wanted her so very much.

"What is it?" she whispered back.

There was a trace of worry and anxiety in her voice now. Severus wrapped his arms around her once more, embraced her with possessive tenderness; wanting to show that everything was alright, that he really, really cared…

"Do you _really_ want this?" he said, no, croaked into her ear. "Look, I know that this doesn't mean a thing, that we are just overexcited after escaping this monster and…"

"… and should not even think about having sex, for maybe one hundred reasons? Is that what you mean?"

It was almost too much to hear her say those words, and in that husky voice. She raised her face up once more. It was too dark to properly judge her expression, but Severus saw those black eyes wide open. Their lips were almost touching.

"Yes," he said. "We should not, but –"

"No, _definitely _not."

He tried to swallow, wondering if she expected him to reply, or whether it was more appropriate to remain silent and wait for her decision. Minerva ran her hands over his body again, with slow and purposeful strikes. Then her left hand crept up to his face, and finally weaved through his hair.

Severus shuddered under her unspeakably gentle touches. Unintentionally, he closed his eyes and leaned forward, unable to resist the temptation. Their lips met in another kiss; gentler this time, more caring, and utterly intoxicating. He only broke away when the need to breathe became imperative.

"Just this once," Minerva whispered. "Just this once, and it won't mean a thing, and we'll never do it again."

Good God, this was not a dream. She really would allow him to touch her.

"I promise," he agreed solemnly, if maybe a little too eager. "Just this one time, and never again."

He was doomed. Knowing that he would regret this later, Severus let his body take over. He crushed her against the wall, only to be rewarded with a soft, choked moan. Minerva kissed him again, with playful urgency and possessiveness. Merlin, he had known that this woman would be passionate. Her hands caressed the sides of his body, and he wondered briefly how one simple gesture like that could feel so good.

Not too slowly, he began to open her robes – which proved to be an unreasonably arduous task with shaking fingers and in a dark room. In the end, he decided to rip the clothes unceremoniously off, together with whatever undergarments she was wearing. In an instant, Minerva was naked but for the small pile of torn garments at her feet. She laughed softly, definitely giving her consent to his proceedings.

She felt wonderful. His let his hands wander all over her, explored that smooth and creamy skin, tickled her slender waist, gently caressed those small and firm breasts.

Severus stroked her all over, taking care not to miss any spot, only occasionally stopping to place warm kisses on her neck and her breasts and that delicate line of her collarbone. She was following his lead and held still, breathing deeper, more heavily.

He was captivated by the noises she was emitting, half-moaning, half-gasping, but evidently enjoying his attentions. At least Severus hoped that she felt as good as her reactions implied.

And then, as ever, she surprised him when she began to return the favour. Small hands ran over his body, delicately stroking him, finding their way under his remaining garments, helping him to shed them quickly. His knees almost gave way when their uncovered bodies touched for the first time.

Slender arms wrapped around his torso and she pulled him tighter against her. As their lips found each other one more time, Minerva began to rub his back, more urgently now, gently nipping his skin with her fingernails. He gasped at the sensations.

The tiny part of his mind that was not gibbering with pleasure noticed that the rough brick wall behind Minerva did not look very comfortable, even if she appeared indifferent to that truth.

With a last effort to do at least one sensible thing tonight, he pulled her away from the wall and guided her to the large sofa next to the fireplace. If this thing could support a half-giant during staff meetings, it would hopefully be big and comfortable enough for tow persons who intended to lie _very_ close to each other...

* * *

Later, when it grew lighter in the room due to the sunrise outside, Severus looked around in a staff room that would now never be the same to him. 

He was lying on the sofa, comfortably on his back, and Minerva was dozing in his arms. She lay half on top of him, slumbering like a content kitten. Severus had fought to stay awake, savouring every second of their encounter, wishing fervently that this moment would last forever.

For a short time, he had been in heaven, making love to a woman that he truly cared about, and who had apparently enjoyed the escapade as well. He sighed, knowing that he had to wake her soon if they wanted to avoid announcing this one-night stand to the whole school.

_And_ there still was the minor problem that there might be a dead Lindworm in the Entrance Hall (although he doubted that they would be that lucky). Life was back to normal. Well, almost.

The warm morning sunlight shone on Minerva's tousled hair, tinting the usually raven-black strands with golden highlights. Severus gently ran his fingertips through her hair, marvelling how soft it felt. Minerva stirred in her slumber, not yet ready to wake up. He proceeded to caress her shoulders, let his hand follow her spine and finally rested his palm on the small of her back.

Severus closed his eyes once more, determined to focus on nothing but the ideal weight of her warm body on his, on her even breathing, and the soft skin under his calloused palm… He knew that he would never again experience these sensations, but intended to remember them for the rest of his life.

There was warm sunlight on his face, and he heard a bird chirp outside the window. Severus opened his eyes again, and for one last, sad moment, he looked at the woman sleeping in his arms. He could not make this dream last any longer.

"Minerva?" he whispered. "Minerva, wake up."

She stirred lazily and he embraced her tighter.

"Never thought you'd be a cuddler, Severus," she mumbled sleepily.

"The very idea is absurd. I do not cuddle; I am merely trying to ensure that you won't fall off this sofa."

"Mmm. If you say so."

She stretched cat-like, languidly, and snuggled against his chest once more.

And then, from one second to another, she was fully awake and stared at his face, her eyes wide-open with shock.

"Great Merlin, this was _not_ a dream?!"

"If that helps, I did wonder exactly the same – maybe two minutes ago."

"Oooooh My God…" Minerva rested her head against his chest, with a gesture as though she would rather bang her forehead against a solid wall. "What have we done? What have... oh dear, what _have_ I done?"

Not for the first time, Severus wondered what was really going on behind those dark eyes. She had sounded astonished, but he also sensed sadness.

"Listen, Minerva, I am sorry," he said earnestly. "I should not have… taken advantage of you like that."

She laughed hollowly and sat up. Her expression was bitter.

"You? I am the one who has used you. Just because I was vain enough to believe for one second that you could want an _old woman_… when I know full well there will _never _be anything between us…"

"Wait."

Severus snatched Minerva's wrist when she tried to get up and away from him. He held her forcefully, determined to sort this out before she could flee.

"Let me go."

"In a second. Listen – now stop struggling and just _listen_ for a moment! – I know just as well that this was the first and the last time for anything intimate to happen between us. But I will not let you march off thinking all kinds of nonsense. If you think you used me, I did the same to you. Both of us wanted this last night."

She looked back at him, evidently uncertain what he was trying to say.

"You are _beautiful_, Minerva," he said sincerely.

There was a moment of tension before a trace of an uneasy smile played on her lips. Her eyes lit up with a strange light, as though she made a futile effort to hide that she was accepting the compliment.

Severus swallowed, now uncertain if he had maybe said that last sentence with too much emotion in his voice. He had to look away, but did not yet release her arm. After a few seconds, he felt her relax.

"That was almost a Hufflepuff thing to say," she answered, teasing him gently.

Severus was so relieved that he almost started laughing, but managed to put on his trademark sneer instead. He let go of her hand.

"Apparently even I can be nice sometimes. Pray forgive me; it must be the lack of sleep."

He looked back at Minerva, and now saw a genuine smile in her face. She nodded slightly, and then got up from the sofa, started to collect her clothes and tried to untangle her long hair with a small comb. While he dressed as well, Severus tried not to display his interest in her body too much.

She _was_ beautiful, especially with that long black hair flowing down her back. Now that it was light in the room, he once again decided that she did indeed not look a day older than… well, maybe forty-five. Certainly young enough for him.

When they both were fully dressed, Minerva turned to the brick wall that she had created last night. She ran her fingertips over it and examined it closely.

"What do you think is there waiting for us in the Entrance Hall?"

"Nothing, I expect. The monster will either have fled or was killed by the fire. And the fire will have burned down. Safe for one or two tapestries, there was nothing in the hall that could have sustained even Fiendfyre."

Minerva nodded and transfigured the door back to its normal wooden form.

Severus had been right. When they stepped into the Entrance Hall, they found nothing but a few scorch marks on the floor and the walls. Two house-elves were already working on removing them. Severus examined the marks while Minerva transformed into her cat shape and sniffed the floor.

He smiled while he watched the small grey tabby dart from one place to the next. Severus had never particularly liked cats, but he had to admit that Minerva's Animagus ability did come in handy once in a while.

"What did you find out?" he asked after she transformed back.

"The monster is alive."

Minerva pointed a spot on the stairs where she had apparently smelled it.

"I lost the track there, the smell from the fire still is too strong. But I am certain that the monster escaped. Its body odour on the stairs is heavier than last night, as though it went the same way back. And I do not smell any serious injuries, just some charred horn scales."

"At least we can report that we have encountered it, and survived."

She nodded distractedly, still looking at the floor.

"We should maybe… decide what we tell the others," she mumbled, blushing slightly.

"The truth," Severus answered immediately. "That we encountered the monster while patrolling last night, fought it using Fiendfyre, and barely got away ourselves. We could not see the creature, but think it might be a dragon or a Lindworm."

"Of course," Minerva sighed. "The truth. – What time is it, anyway?"

"I don't know. Maybe half an hour past sunrise, so… a quarter past five? Half past?"

"Then I will go back to my quarters and try to sleep for an hour. We must discuss this creature with the others – and we should contact Dumbledore, he needs to learn what we found out tonight."

Severus nodded, now eager to get away to the privacy of his own rooms. He had known from the start that he would regret this escapade, and now he felt nothing but sadness. He avoided to look at Minerva, hoping she would not see that he wanted to kiss her so much that he could almost taste it.

"Alright," he said.

Minerva turned around and started to walk away, but she then stopped and looked at him. Once more she appeared uncertain and nervous.

"Just once," she repeated their agreement. "Just this one time, and never again."

"Never again," he confirmed, almost proud to notice that his voice did not shake. "I gave you my word."

He turned on the spot and strode off to his dungeons, knowing he had promised something he would regret for the rest of his life.


	19. Mandragora

**Chapter 18 – Mandragora **

**_( Pomona Sprout POV) _**

Like every morning of the past two weeks, Pomona Sprout went to her greenhouses even _before_ breakfast. Mind you, Pomona enjoyed breakfast, and believed firmly that it was the most important meal of the day. But lately the mandrakes had been acting like impertinent teenagers, and she expected them to be ready for cutting any day now.

This morning, when she entered the greenhouse, she immediately knew that they were ripe. The air smelled of fresh mud, and upon inspecting the plants closer, Pomona saw that several of them had left their pots during the night. Two of the little creatures had even shattered their small pots and moved into a bigger one, _together_. Pomona grinned while she put on her pink earmuffs.

Then she pulled one of the plants out of its pot. Yes, they were ready. The root did not look like a teenager any more, but instead Pomona looked at a small creature who more resembled an full-grown hag. The root opened her mouth for the famous mandragora scream, but Pomona just stuffed her back into her pot and hurried away.

She almost ran all the way back to the castle. There was a strong smell of smoke in the Entrance Hall, but Pomona decided not to bother finding out where it came from. With a likelihood of, say, ninety-five percent, the Weasley twins were responsible for whatever had caused it, so the Head of _Hufflepuff_ House would not concern herself with it now.

Pomona rushed into the Great Hall and hurried to the High Table. Most of the teachers were already assembled there, only Severus, Aurora, Goldilocks, and Sybill were missing. Catching her breath, Pomona let herself drop into her chair.

She smiled at Filius, who immediately charmed the pot of tea to fly to Pomona and pour her a nice and steaming cuppa. Filius pointed to her ears and smirked, and only then did the Herbology Professor realise that she had forgotten to take off her earmuffs. _So what._ Even that little bit of embarrassment could not spoil her good mood.

"Guess what?" she panted excitedly while taking the pink fluffy things of her ears, "The mandrakes are ready."

"Thank goodness!" Minerva exclaimed immediately.

"Most excellent news," Filius concured, and several of the other teachers also nodded and muttered in agreement.

"If you don't mind," Pomona went on, munching some toast at the same time, "I'll skip all my classes today and get started on harvesting them right away. The sooner Severus gets them for cutting, the better. – Where is he, anyway?"

"Probably sleeping in," Minerva said all-too-nonchalantly. "We did have a bit of an… encounter last night."

"Do tell me, is there _any_ chance at all that you will one day stop this hobby of bickering whenever possible?"

"Unlikely," Severus drawled. He had entered the Great Hall through the small door behind the staff table.

"Although this is, I believe, not what Minerva meant. – We were patrolling last night and encountered the monster in the Entrance Hall."

He sat down in his chair next to Minerva, utterly indifferent to the shocked silence of the others. Pomona studied his and Minerva's expressions, trying to figure out if this was some sort of joke. No, it was not. Both of them looked dead serious, and appeared as though they had hardly slept at all.

"You encountered the monster," Pomona repeated slowly.

"Yes," Minerva confirmed. "Believe me, it was anything but pleasant. We – that is, Severus – had to employ Fiendfyre to get away."

"Wow," Septima said. "Wish I'd seen _that_."

"Trust me, you would not have wanted to be there."

"So what kind of a monster _is_ it? And did you see who commanded it?" Filius inquired excitedly.

"We are not certain, but it might actually be some kind of dragon, or a Lindworm. It stayed hidden in the shadows - and if its master was present, we did not see him."

Pomona shuddered, and when she looked around, she saw that many of the other teachers also felt _quite_ uneasy. Not all of them would have been up to handling such a monster… in fact, _most_ of them would have...

"Well, I am glad _you two_ were together when you met that beast," Pomona said.

"Now what do you mean?" Minerva snapped.

"I think what Pomona means," Bathsheba explained, "is that if this is a _Lindworm_, none of us others would have stood a chance. You are the only ones of us who have actually fought _real _battles before – well, you and Filius, of course…"

"But I am getting old," Filius said quietly. "And I would never have dared to use a fire curse… I did not know you could control Fiendfyre, Severus."

"Neither did I," the Slytherin admitted with unexpected honesty. "It was a desperate measure."

Pomona noticed Minerva's sharp intake of breath, but the Headmistress said nothing.

"We barely got away from the fire once I lost control, and Minerva saved us by creating a fireproof wall," Severus continued to explain.

Again, his tone of voice was equanimous, but forcefully so. Pomona detected a certain underlying shakiness, and... good Merlin, the lad did look as though he felt rather uneasy about something. Pomona looked around and saw that the other teachers also exchanged awkward and frightened looks.

A Lindworm in Hogwarts... a creature so evil and powerful that the two most skilled fighters in the castle had chosen _not_ to fight it, but to run away instead... that was definitely not a comforting thought. Not at all.

"Lad, I _am_ glad that it was the two of you together," Filius repeated softly.

Severus shrugged defiantly, and Minerva reached for her teacup with slightly shaking hands. Pomona smiled at her. It was obvious that both Headmistress and Potions Master still felt quite shaken after that fight.

" Pomona, did you say the mandrakes were ready?" Severus changed the subject. "I thought I heard you speak about them when I came in."

"Yes, they are. I'll get started on them right after breakfast."

"In that case I shall begin to prepare the basic Potion. It will need to simmer for two hours before I can add the roots. The completed Restorative Draught should then be ready late in the evening."

Severus rose from his seat, apparently in a hurry to get started on his work. Pomona nodded. She could well understand that he now needed something to take his mind off Lindworms.

Pomona also stood up and left the Great Hall while Minerva announced the good news about the mandrakes to the students. Most of the kids cheered, only Draco Malfoy and his cronies seemed to think it beneath them to join in.

_Sigh. _Slytherins!

But there... there was one more girl who was oddly quiet. Pomona stopped on her way past the student tables. Wasn't that Ginny Weasley at the Gryffindor table, looking as though she'd start crying any second now?

For one moment, Pomona thought about asking the poor girl what had happened, but then she saw Ginny move to sit next to her brother Ron. The boy would certainly take care of his little sister.

* * *

Almost two hours later, Pomona levitated a large wooden crate full of mandrakes through the castle. She had pulled two dozen of the plants out of their pots, and, as though they had sensed their fate, the small creatures had fought vehemently. At least they had stopped screaming once Pomona had slammed the lid of their crate shut.

The Head of Hufflepuff House made a short detour to her rooms on the second floor. She was covered with soil from tip to toe and did at least want to change her cloak. Contrary to popular belief, she _did_ try not to make Filch's cleaning job harder than it already was.

Only three minutes later, Pomona was back on her way downstairs and almost ran into Minerva. Standing in the middle of the corridor, the Headmistress fished a lace handkerchief out of her pocket and blew her nose. She had apparently just spoken to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, as the two boys were running away in the direction of the hospital wing.

"Minerva, are you alright?"

The tall witch looked up, evidently startled. She quickly put the handkerchief away and blinked.

"Yes, perfectly alright," she claimed. "You just gave me a fright there."

Pomona raised her eyebrows, but decided not to inquire any further about the matter.

"What did the boys want?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, they just asked for permission to go and see Miss Granger. Apparently they were quite worried, and now they – well, naturally I know that it makes no sense to talk to a petrified person, but the boys were so eager to go and tell their friend about the Mandrake Potion… I just couldn't say no."

"That is sweet of them. And you."

It _was _very sweet of the boys. They were nice kids. Their wish to see their friend was absolutely understandable. Minerva giving her consent was... well, a bit atypical.

"Mm. Yes, they are nice boys. – Is that the mandrakes in that crate?"

"Two dozen of them," Pomona said proudly. "But don't change the subject. Are you certain you're okay?"

"Yes I am," Minerva stated, her voice now a little sharper. " Pomona, do get those roots to Severus. Merlin knows we need that Potion."

"Alright, alright," Pomona muttered.

She knew when not to argue with her friend. Minerva was the kind of person who did not like to be reminded of the fact that she had weaknesses, so it probably was better not to belabour the fact that she had just reacted unusually emotional.

* * *

When Pomona arrived in the dungeons, she noticed with some surprise that Severus had not cancelled his classes. The door to his classroom stood open, and Pomona saw the students bent over their desks. They were apparently working, and in complete silence.

_Alone_. With no teacher around. Pomona could not believe it.

"Class?"

The students looked up.

"Yes, Professor Sprout?" one girl answered.

Pomona recognised Malena Gray, a sixteen-year-old Ravenclaw girl who always giggled in her Herbology classes. She had not thought it technically possible for Malena to behave herself.

"I was looking for your Professor," Pomona explained.

"Professor Snape is working in his private laboratory. Would you like me to go and fetch him?"

This was uncanny. Students could act like that, so… politely and obliging?

Granted, these kids were sixth-year Ravenclaws and Slytherins, so they were likely to behave themselves a little better than, say, second-year Gryffindors. But...

"No, just carry on. Thanks."

Pomona turned around and almost ran into Severus, who had appeared behind her. He surveyed his class with one quick glance, and the students continued with their work. Then he nodded to Pomona.

"Come."

He levitated the crate to his rooms. Pomona followed him. She had often been to this laboratory, delivering ingredients and sometimes even helping with their preparation. Being an expert on magical plants, she knew about their properties and was quite proficient at concocting Potions.

"You leave your students alone?" Pomona burst out once they were out of hearing distance of the classroom.

"I have told them that I _would know_ if they stopped working on their essays."

"And that works? That's hard to believe," Pomona muttered.

"I would probably not have left Gryffindors unsupervised," Severus admitted with a nasty smile.

There were three cauldrons simmering over the fire, two large ones and one very small copper cauldron. Pomona took a closer look. The small one was most likely for Nearly-Headless Nick, as he would need a slightly different Potion.

Severus directed the crate to his workbench and set it down. Pomona was just about to ask Severus how he wanted to proceed when they suddenly heard Minerva's voice, magically amplified and echoing in the rooms.

"_All students to return to their house dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please._"

Pomona and Severus exchanged one grave look, knowing at once that something dreadful must have happened. In all the years Pomona had spent at Hogwarts, the classes had never been interrupted for anything.

They left the laboratory immediately and met Severus's class in the corridor. The students looked perplexed; most of them even somewhat afraid.

"Professor Snape? What has happened?" one Slytherin girl asked.

"I cannot yet tell you. Go to your common rooms, _all_ of you," Severus replied quietly. "You will be told in due time."

His voice was calm, but there was not a doubt in Pomona's mind that the students would do as he said. Most of the Slytherins appeared determined to remain composed and not to show how nervous they were.

The Ravenclaws seemed a little more anxious, but also willing go back to their tower without any fussing. Two of the girls had tears in their eyes, and Pomona tried to smile comfortingly.

"There's been another attack, right?" one of them whispered shakily.

"We don't know, love," Pomona said in what she hoped to be a reassuring voice. "Do go back to your rooms, alright? I am certain Professor Flitwick will come to see you in no time at all."

The girl sniffed her nose and nodded, and the students marched off. Pomona and Severus hurried to the staff room.

* * *

With the dungeons being just one storey under the ground level, they were among the first to arrive. Pomona greeted the other teachers with a shaky smile. She could easily tell that they felt just as confused and scared as she was. None of them spoke much while they waited for their Headmistress to arrive.

When Minerva had finally come in and closed the door behind herself, Pomona caught her eye for just one split second. She had hardly ever seen her friend wearing an expression that sombre.

"It has happened," Minerva said, her words ringing in the eerie silence of the staff room. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

Pomona felt as though someone had kicked her in the stomach. For one second, she thought she was going to be sick and clapped her hands over her mouth. Several of the other teachers reacted similarly. Aurora collapsed into one of the chairs, and Filius made a squealing noise like a trapped animal.

Through her subsiding dizziness, Pomona heard Severus's voice.

"How can you be sure?" he asked.

"The heir of Slytherin left another message. Right underneath the first one. _Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber for ever_."

Filius started to sob, and absurdly enough _his_ emotional response helped Pomona to calm down. Comforting her old friend at least gave her something to do. While she searched her pockets for a handkerchief that she had not already used to wipe dragon dung off her hands, Pomona once more looked around in the room.

Everyone was under shock. Bathsheba was furiously trying to blink tears away, and Aurora was crying openly. Rolanda slowly sank down into a chair, looking slightly nauseous. Konrad Kettleburn was shaking all over, but still tried to comfort a wailing Septima Vector.

Minerva stood next to the door, her face white as a sheet, but she remained quiet and collected. Only Severus next to Pomona was standing equally still.

"Who is it?" Rolanda eventually asked. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley."

Minerva's voice was composed, _much too composed_ in fact. Pomona suspected that her friend was inwardly close to hysterics and only appeared to be calm.

"We have to send all the students home tomorrow," Minerva continued in her oddly calm voice. "This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said…"

Severus drew in a breath as though he wanted to interrupt Minerva, but he did not get to speak. Suddenly someone threw the door to the staff room open. Pomona rolled her eyes when she saw Goldilocks Lockhart come in, grinning importantly.

"So sorry – dozed off –" he cheered. "What have I missed?"

No one looked at him. Pomona fought back a couple of _very_ dirty swear words that she just longed to shout at the man. Severus next to her stepped forward, and for one second Pomona thought (_hoped_!) he would physically grab the man and shove him out of the room.

"Just the man," Severus said maliciously. "The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

Goldilocks stared back at Severus, utterly perplexed. Merlin, in _any _other situation Pomona would have laughed out loud.

"That's right, Gilderoy," she hurriedly seconded the Potions Master. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I – well, I –"

"Yes," Filius said between sobs, "Didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?"

"D-did I? I don't recall…"

"I certainly remember," Severus continued acerbically, "you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested. Didn't you say the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

Damn, Severus was actually _enjoying_ this. And so was Minerva. Some colour had returned to her white face, and for a split second Pomona was certain she had seen her friend smile at Severus.

Ignoring Lockhart's stammered protest about misunderstandings, Minerva turned to him and addressed him directly.

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," she declared. "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last."

Gilderoy was trembling. No wonder; Pomona did not know _anyone_ who could hold the famous McGonagall glare for more than five seconds.

(Well, Albus maybe. Severus and Filius, on a good day. The centaurs, if…)

"V-very well. I'll – I'll be in my office," Goldilocks agreed, "getting – getting ready."

He turned on the spot and left quickly. Minerva slammed the door shut behind him.

"Right, that's got him out from under our feet," she said decidedly.

The short exchange had apparently revived her spirits a bit, although she did still not look good. Once more Pomona saw her exchange a brief look with Severus.

"The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened," she decided. "Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories."

Everyone nodded, and one by one the teachers left the room. When she passed the wardrobe next to the door, Pomona thought she heard a soft wincing sound.

She hesitated for a moment, but then decided not to investigate the matter now. It most likely was just another boggart. For some reason, these creatures seemed to love the staff room.

Pomona caught up with the other Heads of Houses who were lingering in the Entrance Hall. The rest of the teachers had already gone on to check the castle and the grounds for any students who might not have heard the order to return to their common rooms.

Minerva was staring at one of the knight statues close to the marble staircase. If one looked closely, one could still detect some soot on the otherwise shiny metal. Filius was standing next to her and shook his head sadly.

"_The end of Hogwarts_…" he muttered quietly. "I would never have thought it possible."

Minerva swallowed, still looking at the armour.

"It meant too much to me," she said in a hollow voice. "I did not want to risk closing Hogwarts, and now… now innocent Ginny Weasley had to suffer the consequences."

_Had_.

_Had_ to suffer the consequences… Pomona fought down another bout of nausea when heard Minerva make use of the past tense. The girl was as good as dead, if she was not dead already.

"Don't say that, dear," Pomona said soothingly. "You know Dumbledore would have done the same. Didn't he advise you to keep the school open?"

Minerva did not reply, but only shook her head.

"He did," Severus answered for her.

"I irritated the monster last night," Minerva muttered, her voice suddenly very shaky. "I should not have followed it and started to fight it – that only made it more aggressive. And now the heir has captured a student… as an act of revenge…"

Pomona and Filius exchanged a helpless look.

"Minerva, you _had_ to fight the creature," Filius piped up. "There was no choice. You could not have gotten away from a Lindworm without resorting to battle."

"Love, there was nothing else you could have done..."

Pomona put her hand on Minerva's arm and squeezed it reassuringly. Again, the Headmistress seemed unable to reply. Her lips were trembling.

"Alright, snap out of it," Severus ordered her. "Look at me. Now."

He waited for a few seconds, but his words did not have the desired impact.

Then, Severus slowly reached up to Minerva's face and actually slapped her left cheek – just once, and in a very careful way.

Nevertheless Pomona stared at him, totally baffled with shock. An excited squeal on her left told her that Filius was equally surprised.

"Minerva McGonagall," Severus said harshly. "Look at me. This is _not your fault_."

This time, the effect was startling. Minerva _did_ snap out of her helplessness and focussed angrily on the young man. She opened her mouth for a heated reply, but Severus cut her off.

"_Yes_, you did keep the school open, but it was a calculated risk. Several people including Dumbledore and myself advised you to do so. _Yes_, you did fight the monster, but _I_ was the one who wounded and irritated it. And _no_, it is not your fault that the Weasley girl was captured. No one could have foreseen that. – So would you now tell us what we can do to help you?"

Minerva looked at him for another three seconds, then she rubbed her cheek and bit her lip. Apparently she had (for now) decided against transfiguring the Head of Slytherin House into a slimy little toad.

"I suppose I did need that," she muttered uneasily.

"Obviously."

Pomona grinned with relief. "Dear, I _must_ remember that move the next time we disagree on something. Though, Severus is right. What can we do for you besides speaking to our Houses?"

The Headmistress straightened up and thought for a moment.

"Let us check on our Houses first, to make sure no one else is missing. Then… I will go and see the Weasleys. They deserve to be told in person. And Pomona, could you in the meantime send an owl to Albus? Merlin knows where he is, but we should tell him what is going on."

Pomona nodded.

"Severus, do get started on the Mandrake Draught," Minerva continued. "Let us at least save those who are still alive. Filius, could you contact London and arrange for the Hogwarts Express to be here by tomorrow morning?"

"Right away," the Head of Ravenclaw House replied.

"Then let's get going," Pomona decided.

* * *

Speaking to her students was a horrible. Several of the children started to cry when Pomona told them what had happened – unfortunately, there was no point in lying to them. They deserved to know the truth, even if it scared them.

It took Pomona a good thirty minutes to calm her students and to make sure that none of them were missing. She promised to come back and check on them frequently. Then she rushed to her office, wrote a short message to Albus Dumbledore and sent it off from the owlery.

With her immediate tasks done, Pomona sat down on the stairs and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. Poor little Ginny Weasley. There was nothing they could do for her now. Hell, they did not even know how to get into that blasted Chamber! Pomona felt like having a good cry, but knew that she could not afford to break down. She had to keep a clear head.

She needed something to keep herself occupied with, something that would distract her. Pomona looked into the direction of her greenhouses, but for once the prospect of weeding her flower beds did not cheer her up.

No, she needed some real work… something that she had to concentrate on. Probably Severus would not mind if she offered to help with the Mandrake Draught. It was a complicated Potion to brew, and possibly Pomona was not the only one who did not want to be alone right now.

* * *

It was already late in the evening when they started talking.

Severus had gruffly accepted Pomona's offer of help, and apart from short comments about their work, they had laboured in silence – a heavy silence, especially after the Bloody Baron had shown up and informed them that two more students were reported missing. Apparently Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley had gone to search for Ron's sister, and they had not been seen since.

Pomona had not bothered to look at her watch; she knew that they had been at work for hours. Each of them had a couple of times left the laboratory to check on their students. Now the Potion was – finally! – almost complete. Severus was preparing the last of the ingredients, and Pomona sat down on a rickety chair next to a shelf full of Potion texts.

"I feel sorry for Minerva," she said into the silence.

Severus did not answer verbally, but he nodded and then held Pomona's gaze for a moment.

"Going to see the Weasleys," Pomona went on, "must be a terrible task. I hope I'll never have to comfort the parents of a dead student… it was bad enough telling my students."

"Yes," Severus responded, his voice unusually sombre. "Delivering a death message is…"

His voice trailed off, and Pomona sighed. Not for the first time she suspected that the Hogwarts Potions Master must have seen a few very unpleasant things in the past war.

He had picked up his silver knife and was now cutting birch bark into tiny strips – the final ingredient they would need.

"She is dead, isn't she?" Pomona asked, knowing the answer.

"We don't know. But _if_ the girl is still alive, I know of no way how to rescue her from the Chamber of Secrets. As for Potter and his friend, we can at least hope that they are simply hidden in some secret passage."

"Imagine telling that to the parents. Poor Minerva. Wish we could do something for her."

"She will definitely need our help in the next weeks," Severus said quietly, but also very decidedly.

Pomona looked up, surprised at how determined he sounded.

"What do you mean?"

"The general public will hold her responsible for the death of that girl. We'll need to make it known that she could not have foreseen such an event. It will be easier for her if all of the staff members declare that they were backing her decisions."

"That's right; I hadn't thought of that. She does already feel guilty for what happened to Ginny…" Pomona pondered. "That was a good thing you did this morning; talking some sense into her – though your method to get her attention was a bit drastic."

"In my experience, Minerva responds surprisingly well to drastic moves," he said curtly, almost as though he was angry about something.

Severus swept to his cauldrons and examined the Potions, standing with his back to Pomona. She watched him add the birch bark with slow and deliberate movements.

Pomona sighed. The completed Mandrake Draught would now need to simmer for at least another two to three hours. Apart from stirring it once in a while and keeping an eye on the fire, there was nothing to do any more. On the other hand, it made no difference whether she waited down here or alone in her own rooms. Pomona even had the uncanny impression that Severus did not mind her presence.

"Severus? – Y'know, maybe I ought to apologise to you. Been wanting to do it for a while."

The Head of Slytherin House chose not to respond; he only turned around and raised one of his eyebrows. Merlin, that man was arrogant.

"Enjoying yourself?" Pomona asked pointedly.

"Hardly. What is it that you do wish to apologise for?"

"I think you know."

"I think not. Pray enlighten me."

"That I used to tease you about Minerva. Look, it's so easy to mistake you for lovers, but I think you have now proven that there is nothing to it and that you're just friends."

Severus held her gaze for a few seconds, as though trying to find out whether she was being serious. Damn, he probably was legilimencing her just for the fun of it. Pomona stared back, angrily re-enforcing her mental shields.

"Wonders will never cease," he said acidly. "_So_ gracious of you to finally speak those words."

Pomona rolled her eyes.

"No need to get all shirty, alright?" she complained. "Look, with everything going on this year – and Goldilocks around – we did deserve a little fun. No one ever dares to tease you or Minerva, so it was high time for that. And it's not like there was any harm done, right?"

Severus snorted angrily, presumably implying gruff agreement. He turned back to his cauldrons and stirred the Potions carefully.

Pomona closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. Now that there was nothing else to do but wait, she felt even more awful.

"What did you mean when you said 'easy to mistake for lovers?'" Severus asked after a few minutes had passed.

Pomona opened her eyes again, surprised that he would still think of that subject.

"Oh," she said. "It's just that you _would_ make sort of a nice couple, wouldn't you? - Dont' get all angry again, that was a thoroughly objective statement. I know she's a Gryffindor and you're a Slytherin, but apart from that you do have a few things in common."

"Like what?"

"Characterwise. You always play cool and aloof and distanced, but you are passionate inside. Both of you are those kind of people that always make others feel like they are not able to live up to your standards - but you obviously respect each other. Sometimes it's like you can read each other's thoughts… like when you told Minerva this morning that all of this mess here is not her fault."

"That _does_ sound like a frighteningly mawkish description of a loving couple," Severus objected with a disgusted grunt.

"Yeah, but you would never be lovers. You've demonstrated enough hostility to prove that point. And Minerva – well, I admit that it was fun to tease her, but I am afraid she would not fall in love with her former student. Just one passionate kiss will not make her forget her principles."

When Pomona mentioned that Valentine's Day incident again, Severus stared at her as though she had said something indecent – but then he masked whatever he was truly thinking behind that patented Slytherin-sneer.

"I am certainly glad to hear that you've finally caught on," he replied eventually.

Pomona rolled her eyes and tried to think of an appropriately insulting retort, but was distracted when she heard hurried steps in the dungeons corridor.

"Severus? Pomona?" Poppy Pomfrey called from outside.

"In here!" Pomona shouted.

The school nurse rushed in.

"Have you heard?!" she exclaimed.

"We've been down here all day," Severus replied. "What has happened? Good news or bad?"

"Good," Poppy panted, still catching her breath. "No, it's not Ginny. But – Dumbledore is back. The school governors have revoked their decision, Albus is Headmaster again, and he's just arrived. He's upstairs with Minerva and the Weasleys."

"That's at something least," Pomona said. "Let's go upstairs and see what is going on."


	20. The School Feast and other Disasters

**Chapter 19 - The School Feast (and other Disasters)**

**_(Cuthbert Binns POV)_**

_The handsome ghost entered the staff room, floating gracefully through the stone wall. Every one of his movements showed that he was not only a man (or ghost) of learning, but also an energetic and urbane gentleman._

_His pale cheeks turned silver when he blushed out of genuine modesty. All of the staff members were assembled in the small room, and they all had risen to their feet._

_"To Cuthbert Binns!"_

_The Headmaster held up his sparkling glass of champagne and proposed a toast. All of the other teachers followed his lead._

_"What a scholar!"_

_"To discover that old scroll just when we needed it the most!"_

_"Yes, and in such short time. – It's incredible, how he dared to enter the long-forgotten secret library archives in the dungeons."_

_"Indeed, he is such a versatile scholar! I'm telling you, no one would ever have believed this story about a hidden chamber with a thousand-year-old basilisk inside if our Cuthbert had not saved the day!"_

_"Please, my friends, it was nothing at all," Cuthbert tried to stem the stream of compliments raining down on him. "I only did what I had to do. History is not about _myths_, it is about _facts_. I knew there had to be at least one source text that would mention the Chamber of Secrets, so I just went… and found it."_

_"No, no, don't efface yourself, dear chap," Filius Flitwick said heartily. "We desperately needed that scroll. The parents of that poor little girl would never have believed the truth about what happened to their daughter – but thanks to you, we now have proof!"_

"Cuthbert!"

"Hmmm…?"

"Cuth-_bert_, wake up! _Now! _Really, I've never heard of a ghost who daydreams all the time!"

Cuthbert Binns opened his eyes reluctantly and blinked several times. Then he looked at Poppy Pomfrey, who had just let herself drop into the seat next to him.

"It is night," he replied haughtily. "How could I be daydreaming at nighttime?"

"Now that's splitting hairs," the school matron growled. "Honestly, I knew History of Magic was boring, but that it should be so boring that you yourself fall asleep all the time? And during a school feast at that!"

Weren't the Hufflepuffs supposed to be the kind and understanding ones? Cuthbert made some grumpy, grunting noise, which proved to be a satisfactory answer. At any rate Poppy turned her attention to the bottle of ruby elf-made wine on the table, the kind that the house-elves only served on very special occasions.

The ancient Professor for History of Magic looked around. Some school feast this was. He hated feasts, celebrations, and parties of any kind (yes indeed, he even had avoided attending Sir Nicholas's Deathday Party!), but this one was an especially awful gathering.

He sat on (well, floated above) a chair at the High Table only because he had to, and for reasons he did not quite understand. It was not even as though anyone was interested in his company. Everyone had just agreed that it would look good to the parents of that red-headed girl if _all_ Professors attended the feast in her honour.

Cuthbert looked around in the Great Hall. It was positively scandalous – most of the children were in their pyjamas, and they were running around, screaming, eating, having food-fights, and every few seconds one of them set off another round of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet Start Fireworks – in short, they were doing all the foolish things children usually did at parties. Even most of the Slytherins had joined in.

As for the teachers and the other ghosts, they hardly behaved any better. Pomona Sprout and the Fat Friar sat together at their House Table, surrounded by some of the older students – and judging by that look on Pomona's face, Cuthbert guessed that they were telling slightly indecent jokes.

Young Filius Flitwick also was at his House table, correction, he stood _on_ the Ravenclaw Table. The tiny man was busy entertaining the students with a repertory of real charms and Muggle stage illusions – great Merlin, he actually did the bill-in-lemon trick, and the children guffawed as though there was something special to it. _Really_. All one needed to do was vanish the bill and then make it re-appear inside the lemon.

And there, wasn't that Aurora, Charity, and Septima, actually _dancing_ with a group of children, both boys and girls? It was shocking. Truly shocking.

Even Sybill Trelawney sat in one corner of the Great Hall, deeply engrossed in conversation with three girls who dressed suspiciously like the Divination Professor. For some reason, every year of Hogwarts students would contain at least two girls who were obsessed with the study of crystal orbs and tarot cards.

At least Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall (now again the _Deputy_ Headmistress) had remained here at the staff table, talking to the parents of that girl who had been kidnapped. What was her name again, Virginia Wesley or something like that?

The child had fallen asleep while sitting on her father's lap, and Dumbledore was comforting the mother with a cup of hot chocolate that had obviously been spiked with more than a mere touch of brandy. And neither one of the parents showed any inclination of not believing this tall tale about murderous memories out of a book, basilisks, and hidden chambers.

It was just not fair. People would believe _anything_ that Dumbledore told them, and no one ever bothered to ask whether there was any scientific proof to his claims. This should have been Cuthbert's Great Moment, but instead, no one even considered the fact that the resident expert on historical facts had not even been asked for his opinion about an obviously historical chamber.

With a deep sigh, Cuthbert turned to the school matron again. She already was on her second glass of elf claret.

"How is the wine?" he asked, in a desperate attempt to abate the pain of boredom by means of small talk.

"Excellent," she said approvingly. "It's a shame you cannot taste it."

Apparently tonight all thoughts of cultivating good manners were forgotten. The loss of taste buds was one of the disadvantages of being a spectral entity.

"No need to remind me," he informed her coldly.

"Look, Cuthbert, I know this isn't your kind of party," Poppy retorted, "But do let us others enjoy the feast. I've just given a stiff dose of Mandrake Potion to a cat and several kids, and I'm just glad there weren't any side effects. And before that, I treated a boy with a half-healed basilisk bite, and a girl who'd been drained of most of her life energy and was suffering from a severe shock. Trust me, I need and deserve a bit of cheering up. We all do."

She did have a point there. Cuthbert shrugged uncomfortably.

"So how are the children?"

"Fine. All of them. They just wanted to take a shower and put on some fresh clothes before joining the feast. You know some of the Potion has to be rubbed in like ointment, and it's a bit sticky. And Severus went to fetch some more Pepper-Up for them, I want them each to have a dose just in case."

Cuthbert did not know much about Potions and medical treatments (apart from the fact that the warlord-turned-healer Eargit the Ugly had been the Goblin representative at a 14th century summit of the Wizard's Council), but he did suppose that it made sense. After all, how would a petrified person _swallow_ a Potion?

His musings were interrupted when the children finally arrived in the Great Hall, accompanied by a tired-looking Potions Master who headed straight to the High Table. Grant, that little Gryffindor girl with the bushy hair, came running towards her friends. It was almost funny.

She first ran to that Perkins boy, the one with the scar on his forehead, threw her arms around him and hugged him for almost a minute while squealing something about solving a riddle. Then she turned to his red-haired friend and greeted him in a very formal manner, but with a shy and happy little smile on her face.

Cuthbert would have been willing to bet _anything_ that Grant and the redhead would get married later on in life. It was too obvious. But of course there was no one to bet with, because he had no one to talk to. The school matron had immediately turned her attention to Severus, and the two were already discussing boring details of the effects of a combined dosage of Pepper-Up and Mandrake.

Eventually the Deputy Headmistress turned around, while Dumbledore continued to speak with the red-haired mother.

"Well done," Minerva said warmly. "That Potion has worked perfectly."

Her voice was calm and even, but the way she looked at the Potions Master – for just one second – reminded Cuthbert of the expression he had just seen on Miss Grant's face.

Ha!

Cuthbert coughed audibly and shot a meaningful glance at Filius, but the young(er) wizard pretended not to notice. No matter what explanations the Head of Ravenclaw House had offered, Cuthbert knew there was something going on between the Heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Two centuries of life experience taught one to notice that kind of thing. Even if everyone else was to blind to make it out.

Poppy smiled at her friend and pointed to the decorations in the Great Hall.

"Gryffindor colours, eh? – How many points _did_ Harry and Ron get awarded?"

"Two hundred each," Minerva said proudly.

Severus snorted with disgust. Cuthbert privately agreed. The boys had possibly deserved some reward, but this exorbitant prize was too much.

Young children needed to be taught manners and modesty. Cuthbert had, to his knowledge, not awarded one single point to a student in thirteen years. It was not as though they ever showed any interest in the History of Magic.

"That justifies an early House Cup celebration," Poppy said consensually. "Only three more weeks to the school year… not even Severus could take that many points from Gryffindor House."

"I know when to admit defeat," the Potions Master said gruffly.

For another boring hour, Cuthbert waited for one of the other teachers to speak to him, but no matter how audibly he cleared his throat and emitted little noises of disapproval whenever one of the children gave him a reason to – no one addressed him.

The Deputy Headmistress talked to Dumbledore and the Wesleys, and to her friend Poppy Pomfrey. Snape remained quiet and kept an eye on the romping children. Actually it was somewhat interesting to see that he and Minerva hardly exchanged a word.

The Wesley family finally left the table. The father carried his sleeping daughter in his arms. No doubt they would stay in the Hogwarts guest rooms. Cuthbert took this as a cue and started to rise from his seat, but just then Charity Burbage caught his eye and he sat down again.

"You're staying," she said in an unusually strict voice. "Hagrid's going to arrive any minute now, and we'll _all_ be here to welcome him back."

For the second time tonight, Cuthbert wondered how the Hufflepuffs had ever earned the reputation of being the friendly and kind ones. This plump witch hardly ever said anything, but now she glared at him like a crazed badger - _while_ she was teaching some of the students to 'dance like a Muggle'.

At least, Cuthbert noticed, he was not the only one who thought this feast was going on for too long. The Deputy Headmistress was obviously tired although she tried not to show it, and Severus did also not appear to enjoy the festivities. Maybe the two of them were just too exhausted for small talk.

Finally, late in the night the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open and Rubeus Hagrid arrived. The Hogwarts gamekeeper had lost weight during his time in Azkaban, but he looked so happy that even Cuthbert could not refrain from smiling at him.

Minerva's face lit up when she saw Hagrid enter the Great Hall. She rose from her seat and went to meet her old friend, who was already being greeted by several of the children.

Dumbledore turned to the school matron and the Potions Master.

"You did an excellent job with the Mandrake Potion," he said heartily. "Please forgive me for not mentioning this earlier; I felt that I had to speak to the Weasleys first."

"Severus delivered a perfect Potion," Poppy beamed, "and earlier than I expected. It was easy to apply."

She poured herself another glass of wine and then moved on to touch up the mens' glasses.

"Actually, I had help. Pomona assisted me in preparing the ingredients, and that saved a lot of time."

"Excellent, I must remember to thank her," Albus beamed. "And Minerva mentioned just now that you have even found a way to un-petrify Sir Nicholas?"

"In theory, yes. Minerva, Filius, and I will have to work together."

Cuthbert leaned forward.

"Do you know whether this will work for certain?" he asked. "I do feel most sorry for Sir Nicholas. He usually is delightful company."

"No, of course not. It's very experimental."

"But you will not... _hurt_ him, will you?"

"I don't see how anything could happen to a ghost," Severus remarked dryly. "But to answer your question, no, I do not know if there will be any side effects."

"Well, then..."

Cuthbert paused. It was not at all like him to make such spontaneous decisions, but apparently his three colleagues were about to make a breakthrough in the history of potionmaking. He felt a strong desire to take part in that.

"You should first try it on another ghost," he said decidedly. "Just to test if there are any side effects. I'll volunteer, of course. Considering that I am not petrified, I could easily move away or tell you if the process is too painful."

"We couldn't ask you to do that," Poppy slurred.

She tried to pat his hand and did, of course, pass through it. Obviously the lady had already had more than enough wine. Ah, these young people nowadays...

"That was cold," she complained, but grinned.

"There is something to that idea," Severus said pensively. "Naturally we could never ask you - or any other ghost - to play our guinea pig, but if you are truly willing to volunteer... let's try it tomorrow morning."

"Not tomorrow!" Poppy said decidedly.

"Why not?" Albus inquired.

"Albus, you've talked to Minerva all evening, but have you even looked at her? She's totally exhausted. Believe the healer, she's not fit for any straining magical experiments first thing tomorrow."

"Does she share your views on that matter?" Severus asked sardonically, but Poppy ignored him.

"Sir Nick's been dead for more than five hundred years," the school matron argued. "One more day won't matter to him. Honestly, Albus, you have no idea what you did to Minerva when you left just like that. She's hardly slept during the past few weeks, and _some_ people," - Poppy gave Severus a pointed look - "did not exactly make life easier for her."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," the Head of Slytherin House replied stiffly, but he did look a little bit wary.

"Have you… ahem, spoken to her today?" he added after a few seconds.

"Today? – No, not really." Poppy replied nonchalantly.

"Then what did you mean by that remark?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling brightly. "As a matter of fact Minerva told me only a few minutes ago how very much Severus has helped her run the school during my unfortunate absence."

"Ah, nothing," Poppy said decidedly, although it was obvious that she knew far more than she wanted to admit.

"I just meant to say, Headmaster, do make her take a break for a while. She battled that monster last night, and today all that business with Ginny – Minerva blamed herself for that, and you know how she gives herself a hard time when she thinks she's made a grave mistake."

The school matron set her glass down on the table and some of the red wine slopped out of the glass. Cuthbert frowned. He understood that taking care of the petrified students must have stressed her quite a bit, but he disapproved of unbridled drinking as a means of relaxation. The lady had definitely had enough for tonight.

Cuthbert looked at Dumbledore, but the Headmaster only smiled and cleaned the wine off the table with a casual wave of his wand. Cuthbert next turned to the Potions Master, only to see that the young man had stood up in a hurry.

"Headmaster, if you'd excuse me for a while –"

"That's alright, Severus. Do go to bed if you wish, I know you must be tired. I shall keep an eye on the children for the rest of the night."

Finally! If Snape was free to go, that meant that Cuthbert could also leave the feast. He floated away from the table as quickly as possible and left the Great Hall by using his favorite shortcut through the back wall and the adjoining staff room.

The Entrance Hall was deserted. Hagrid still stood in the big doorway to the Great Hall, surrounded by more than a dozen first-years and second-years who wanted to hear all about his unfortunate sojourn in Azkaban and his journey home to Hogwarts. Minerva stood close to him, and she even smiled.

"Minerva? Could I have a word?"

The smile on her face froze when then Potions Master suddenly appeared behind her, but after a second of thinking she nodded and followed him into the Entrance Hall. Cuthbert quickly hid behind a pillar. Severus had led Minerva to a far-off corner of the Entrance Hall, and it was obvious that they wanted to be alone.

"We need to talk," he stated.

"I suppose we do," Minerva sighed heavily.

Cuthbert tried to disappear entirely behind that pillar. Suddenly it all fell into place. He knew that these two young teachers were in love, but they had obviously disagreed on something. And Severus had decided that he needed to sort this out just when… yes, when Poppy had mentioned that Minerva thought she had "made a grave mistake."

The History of Magic teacher frowned. He had after all lectured these two on proper behaviour, but one could never know with young people. Possibly they had gotten, well, closer than they were supposed to at that stage in a relationship. Why, so far they were not even engaged!

"Although I had thought…" Minerva mumbled, "ahem, we did agree on certain terms. This is never, ever happening again. Full stop. That's it."

"Yes," Severus agreed.

Cuthbert was outraged. So something indecent _had_ happened! Hopefully they had not kissed again? He did not even want to think about that.

"So?"

"So… this agreement did not include the decision to behave all awkward all of a sudden. I just…" Severus bit his lip, searching for the right words. "Poppy said that you act as though you felt guilty about something. I only want to know, is this because of what happened to Ginny Weasley, or because of – this? Because we need to find a way to get back to normal social behaviour."

"Like constant bickering and full-blown arguments about Quidditch?" Minerva quipped, but her serious expression belied her words.

"Something like that," Severus said vaguely.

They avoided looking at each other. Minerva kept her gaze fixed on her hands as though she had never seen them before.

"Look, just tell me if you'll be alright," he said after another few seconds. "Do you feel guilty because of the Weasley girl, or –"

"Both," Minerva interrupted him, barely whispering.

Involuntarily Cuthbert moved closer to them so he could make out her words.

"I suppose it's a little bit of both. But Ginny will hopefully recover, so that is all right. It's just… the fact that I have slept with a former student is a bit disconcerting, don't you think?"

Cuthbert would have gasped for air had he not abandoned the habit of breathing a long time ago. This was… shocking! unbelievable! scandalous!

He drew himself up to full height and floated forward. The old Professor was a firm believer in old-fashioned and proper romance, and he would drag these two youngsters over the coals for such an indecent lack of morals. Merlin's beard, they were teachers! They were supposed to set an example to the students of this institution!

"And it's not just that," the Deputy Headmistress continued in the same low voice as before. "Such a meaningless fling between colleagues, that is just inappropriate. Look, I'm so sorry I let this happen. It only makes life harder for both of us. It'd have been different if it had _meant_ something, but like that…"

Her voice trailed off, and Cuthbert stopped again. He had spotted the anxious look on the Potions Master's face, and knew immediately that he had to postpone his lecture. Oh, he would certainly tell them off later on, but right now… this was not the right moment to interrupt the couple.

Minerva still did not look at Severus, but stood half turned away from him. She had blushed; even in the dim light of the Entrance Hall Cuthbert could see the touch of pink on her cheeks.

"If it had meant something…" Severus repeated in a hollow voice, but Minerva had either not heard him or was too caught up in her own thoughts to react properly.

"Minerva? – Minerva, listen…"

"What?" She still did not look up.

"Listen to me," he said hurriedly. "We need to put this into perspective. Let me set something – this – right."

Cuthbert felt a smile appear on his face. So his recitals about courtship, delivered months ago, had not been entirely without avail.

If they had already shared a bed, there was naturally only one way to put things right. And Cuthbert was touched to see that Severus apparently intended to ask _the_ question.

"What do you mean?" Minerva asked.

The Potions Master closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. Cuthbert felt his smile broaden. Yes, he had felt just as nervous when he had one hundred and sixty-seven years ago proposed to his late wife .

"This is not exactly easy to explain –"

Minerva had realised that Severus was trying to say something important. She finally managed to stop studying the pattern of the stone floor and looked up –

– which was a shame, really, because in consequence she spotted Cuthbert.

For two endless seconds, they just stared at each other. Then Minerva inhaled sharply and Cuthbert watched the expression on her face change rapidly from mortified embarrassment to white-hot fury.

"Cuthbert Binns, what do you think you are doing here!"

"I am so sorry," he immediately tried to explain. "I just –"

"I don't care the least bit if you are sorry. _What_ are you doing here, listening in on other people's private conversations?"

The old ghost found it hard to decided whether to look Minerva or Severus in the face. He settled on Minerva. She was not as likely to cast a nasty curse on him, although Cuthbert could not be too certain of that.

"Really, I'm so sorry," he stammered hastily. "I did not mean to listen. I just… I just happened to pass by and then when I heard you speak about all these emotional matters and… look, I honestly did not want to interrupt that crucial moment."

"Crucial moment?"

"Well, it was obvious that Severus was just…"

"That I was just – what?" the Potions Master asked, in a dangerously quiet voice.

"Erm, about to propose. Please understand, I am truly sorry," Cuthbert explained unhappily.

"Propose _marriage_? – Hell, no!"

For some reason, both Professors stared at Cuthbert as though he had said something indecent. Another few seconds ticked away, then Minerva laughed humorlessly.

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've heard all year. It even transcends Lockhart's tales."

"But you just spoke about… well, you know, making love…" Cuthbert protested feebly.

"We just spoke about _sex_," she snapped back. "About a stupid, meaningless, never-ever-again episode that happened only because we'd just been chased by a basilisk and Fiendfyre and were overly excited and… because people sometimes just do idiotic things like that to prove to themselves that they still are alive after a battle."

Her eyes sparkled with fury, possibly simply because she felt cornered, but still Cuthbert decided to let the matter drop. He looked at Head of Slytherin House instead, but the look on Severus's face was only slightly less malicious.

"You heard the lady," he said contemptuously. "People will do unexpected things when they survive something they thought they wouldn't."

"So you are not… in love?" Cuthbert asked slowly, still trying to comprehend what was going on.

"No," Minerva hissed. "_No_, we're not, and would you _please_ just get this into your head? Great Merlin, this is the 1990s! We don't live back in the Middle Ages when one mistake meant that you'd have to be married for the rest of your life. Nowadays you just admit you did something inappropriate and then you pull yourself together and get on with your life, is that so hard to understand?"

Cuthbert mustered all the dignity he had left and looked her squarely in the eyes.

"Young lady," he said gravely, "we do hold very differing views on that matter."

"I can live with that. As long as I don't _ever_ have to discuss this subject again."

She held his gaze for another few seconds, then she turned to the Potions Master again.

"Goodnight, Severus. I am sorry our talk was cut short like that, but I do not think there is anything left to say, is there?"

Severus shook his head in a weary manner, but Minerva hardly looked at him. She turned on her heel, shot one last and particularly vindictive glare at Cuthbert, and stormed out of the Entrance Hall.

_Witches_.

Cuthbert shook his head. He would never fully understand the way females acted. And he did somehow have the impression that the young Potions Master was thinking around the same lines.


	21. Bird Perspective

**Chapter 20 – Bird Perspective**

**_(Fawkes POV)_**

Fawkes shifted uncomfortably on his perch. The feathers on his back were itching, and the worst spot was just in that very place in the middle which he could not reach with either claws or beak.

His feathers always itched when Fawkes started to feel old. He had been a beautiful, crimson-feathered phoenix just a few days earlier, but Fawkes still felt worn out after the battle with that basilisk. He would soon start to age visibly and approach yet another Burning Day. And even though he was by now used to the process, that did not mean Fawkes the phoenix had to _like_ burning.

Furthermore, his favorite human had disregarded him all day. Fawkes felt bored, and he craved attention. So what if Albus Dumbledore had spent half of the afternoon discussing something with a rather tetchy Potions Master - could he not spend some time with his familiar afterwards?

The big bird clicked his beak and stretched his wings. Dumbledore looked up from his work and smiled.

"What is it, Fawkes?" he inquired.

Fawkes again clicked his tongue against his beak, louder this time, and bowed his head. The wizard obediently got up from his seat and started to pet Fawkes.

"You like that, don't you?" he smiled.

Fawked cocked his head to one side and growled softly. He loved that old man, but would never really understand why so many people considered him extraordinarily wise. How could a man be _wise_ if he asked idiotic questions like that?

Nevertheless, Fawkes enjoyed being scratched and petted. He yawned widely, fluffed his feathers out, and made a cooing noise to show how much he appreciated these ministrations.

"You could sit like that forever, hm?" Dumbledore observed.

Fawkes chirped happily.

"I am truly sorry, old friend," the old wizard apologised. "I do not have much time for you this afternoon. Minerva will be here any minute, I have just sent her a note through the floo."

The bird chirped again. A visit by the Deputy Headmistress was alright with him. At least she was a far more pleasant person than that sour Potions Master, even if the lady always smelled vaguely of cat hair.

He stretched his right wing, so that Dumbledore could more easily access the feathers on his side. Fawkes enjoyed all the attention. He had been sitting all quiet for a long time, sensing that Dumbledore would not have wanted any interruption during his talk with Snape.

It had been a strange discussion. At some point, Fawkes had fallen asleep because it had, from his perspective, been absurdly monotonous. Why was it that humans always discussed things by debating the same topic over and over again, constantly saying the same even if they used different words? They had kept going on about subjects like friendship, companionship, and saying farewell; and the whole time the atmosphere had been quite depressing.

But in the end Fawkes had woken up from his dozing, because Snape had admitted something in a very angry voice. And Dumbledore had sighed sadly, and reluctantly agreed with the Potions Master. But Fawkes had seen that certain boyish glint in his eyes, and he was quite certain that his favorite wizard had only pretended to give in to whatever Snape had requested.

Fawkes's head shot up when he heard footsteps on the spiral staircase which led to the office. Seconds later, the door swung open and the Deputy Headmistress entered the circular room. Dumbledore offered her a chair with a casual wave of his right hand, and Fawkes fanned his golden tail feathers out to greet her.

This truly was a strange day. Even Professor McGonagall did not look at Fawkes. Usually she would greet him back by petting him, or giving him an owl treat (on rare occasions, even a piece of chicken bone), but today she just sat down and looked at Dumbledore. Fawkes crowed a loud protest, but only once. He sensed that this would become another important conversation.

"You wished to speak to me, Albus?"

"Oh yes, thank you for coming so quickly. I do hope it is not inconvenient. I just would like to ask you to have a look at the job advertisements I drafted for the _Daily Prophet_. I simply cannot seem to find the right words."

"Why is that? – You've been doing this for years."

"Exactly," Dumbledore explained, stressing his point with elaborate gestures. "And every year it gets harder to find an instructor willing to take on the position for Defence Against the Dark Arts. People are afraid of that jinx. I feel we need to make the job sound… more attractive."

"Oh, all right," she sighed, "show me what you've written."

Fawkes studied Minerva McGonagall closely. She looked tired, and a little stressed out. Maybe this had to do with the talk Snape and Dumbledore had just had?

Just before dozing off, Fawkes had heard her name mentioned when the two men had discussed their issues earlier; and now, come to think of it… ever since the Great Feast the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor had acted in a peculiar manner.

Whenever Fawkes had seen them together, they had acted overly polite and friendly; like two persons who were at serious odds with each other, but unwilling to quarrel openly. This in itself was already a rather curious development, usually they almost seemed to enjoy their constant verbal skirmishes.

Fawkes cocked his head to one side and watched Dumbledore hand two parchments to his Deputy.

"Here they are. Do you think we should advertise in the _Quibbler_ as well?" he asked.

McGonagall shook her head.

"No, of course not," she answered automatically while a small crease on her forehead indicated that she was thinking about something else. She looked at the parchments without bothering to read them.

"Did you say _two_ job advertisements?" she then asked, stressing the plural.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"But who…? Of course we need to replace Lockhart, and Konrad is retiring. But I thought we had decided that Hagrid would become the new Professor for Care of Magical Creatures? Has he changed his mind?"

"Oh no, he is quite keen on the job," Albus answered quietly. "We will also need a new Potions Master."

There was a sudden and complete change of mood in the office. Fawkes watched the Deputy Headmistress closely. She usually did not show her feelings, but now her expression changed visibly. Her eyes widened just a little bit, the thin line of her mouth became slightly thinner, and her lips grew pale.

"Severus?" she asked in astonishment. "Severus wants to leave?"

"I am afraid so."

"But why… where to… he doesn't have anywhere to go!"

"Apparently he does not feel much concerned about that."

"You can't just let him go," she argued frantically. "What if you ever need him again? You've always said that this war is not really over, and that You-Know-Who will return someday… think about what has happened in the last two years!"

"I don't need Severus here at school to rely on him. It's convenient to have him close by, but his presence at Hogwarts is not mandatory. Not any more."

"I don't understand…"

Professor McGonagall sat back in her chair, with the air of someone who felt sad and confused but did not want to show it. Dumbledore put his quill and paper away and rose from his chair. He walked to the window and looked outside.

Obviously he thought it more polite not to observe his friend too closely. Fawkes decided that etiquette did not demand the same of him.

"_Why_ does he want to leave?" she asked after a few moments, speaking in a very controlled manner.

Dumbledore turned back around.

"Personal reasons," he explained in a very sombre voice.

Too sombre, in fact. Fawkes saw the old wizard smile at him for just one instant, and he blinked back. He had not yet quite understood what was going on, but apparently Dumbledore was enjoying his little game.

"And did he, by any chance, tell you what kind of personal reasons?"

"That he did," the Headmaster said kindly. "Although it took me more than one hour to make him speak. I almost had to threaten the combined use of a full body bind and Legilimency before he confessed. Oh, and I might have mentioned Veritaserum. Naturally, I would never have used that, but..."

Dumbledore smirked, as though the absurdity of that threat was enough to amuse oneself mightily, and all afternoon long. McGonagall glared at him.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

Her voice was angry, but Fawkes saw that she was also wringing her hands in a helpless manner. The bird considered flying to her and offering some comfort, but then decided against it. She was not yet ready to accept a kind move, and he did not want someone that excited to ruffle through his feathers.

"I do not think that Severus would want me to repeat his words," Dumbledore said apologetically. "As a matter of fact he made me promise not to tell you. Or anyone else. But, I am afraid, especially you."

Again, he looked at Fawkes as though the phoenix was his accomplice, and once more Fawkes saw that twinkle in his blue eyes.

"So," the Headmaster continued brightly, "what do you think of my adverts?"

Fawkes had an excellent sense of hearing, but he was not fluent in Gaelic. Maybe this was for the better, because the response Professor McGonagall muttered under her breath sounded like a particularly insulting expletive.

The phoenix was almost impressed. He had not known that the well-mannered Transfiguration Professor was capable of such language. Dumbledore appeared to be less surprised, and Fawkes suspected that he had both heard and understood what she had called him.

"You know, Minerva, I think if you asked him, he might tell you," Dumbledore said seriously.

"We haven't really been on speaking terms lately," she replied stiffly.

"Haven't you? – Oh dear, I am growing old," the old wizard sighed. "I had received the false impression that the two of you have not quarreled even _once_ since I returned to Hogwarts. In fact, I thought your demeanour was extraordinarily cordial."

"I don't want to speak about it," McGonagall said in an unusually rude manner.

"That is perfectly alright, my dear girl. So, about my adverts –"

"_Don't _call me girl!"

Dumbledore sat down again, and Fawkes saw that he now did not even attempt to hide his smile any more. Fawkes whistled loudly. This was really getting interesting. Sometimes humans were rather funny to watch.

"Forgive me, Minerva. You have been telling me that for – oh, I should say at least fifty years."

"Then maybe it's about time that you listened to me," she snapped.

"Oh, I could not possibly. Not _now_, when you act like an stubborn fifth-year."

Fawkes cackled and swished his tail feathers from one side to the other. This was great entertainment. Something about Minerva McGonagall had always made him think of a cat, and now he almost saw fur bristling with electricity and a bushy tail.

"A. Stubborn. Fifth. Year," she repeated incredulously. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, _what_ are you talking about?"

"Minerva… I said Severus had personal reasons to leave Hogwarts. Now what could be so personal? Lass, you don't need my advice to tell you what is going on. You know."

"No, I _don't_ know."

This time, her voice was more sad than angry.

And this time, Fawkes did fly to her and sat down on the armrest of her chair. Absent-mindedly, she started to stroke him and he cooed softly. For a second, he considered preening her hair with his beak, but then decided against it. Most of the children liked that way of showing affection, but with the Deputy Headmistress it might not be a good idea to mess up her hair.

"Do I really have to spell it out for you?" Dumbledore asked, gently, although there still was a fair amount of amused chuckling. "This is about… about one person only. One member of the Hogwarts staff, and Severus thinks that he cannot any more bear to see that person every day."

Fawkes studied her face, and he noticed something like a weak flicker of hope while she tried to figure out what Dumbledore could have implied. And then there was sadness again.

"I still don't understand it," she said quietly. "Lockhart is at St Mungo's, and will stay there for a while. He could not possibly annoy Severus any more."

Fawkes considered scratching her arm – just in a very gentle manner, but to let her know that she was being stupid. Even he had by now understood what his favorite wizard meant to say, and he was by far no expert on humans.

"Minerva, look at me."

"What?"

"I am certain you are quite aware of the fact that I do not _want _Severus to leave this school."

"Mm."

"But I have found no way to hold him back."

"So you've told me."

"I should like _you_ to go and speak to him about that matter. Just keep in mind that... what you already know about him."

Still there was that puzzled expression on her face. Fawkes shook his head. Wizards and witches truly did have strange ways of communicating.

"Severus thinks himself unworthy of friendship, and yet you became his friend," Dumbledore explained, choosing his words very carefully. "He is unable to imagine that anyone would care about him. In his world-view, there is not one being out there capable of _loving him back_."

Dumbledore smiled dreamily for another five seconds, but then he leant forward in a very business-like manner and took the two parchments that he had earlier given to his Deputy.

"So you think those advertisements are alright?"

"Oh. Yes, perfectly alright," McGongall replied mechanically. She had not even looked at them.

"Excellent. But I think it is too late for today, I will owl them to the _Daily Prophet_ tomorrow."

The old wizard took an envelope out of a drawer and started to prepare the letter with slow and meticulous movements. McGonagall looked out of the window and bit her lower lip. Fawkes could see that she was thinking hard.

He nudged her with his head and she started stroking him again, but the phoenix could tell that she was not really interested in him. This time, his natural skill to convey solace was not needed.

Fawkes clicked his tongue and cocked his head from side to side. There had to be something else he could do…

"Ouch! – Good Merlin, Albus, Fawkes just bit me!"

The witch rubbed her left arm and glared at Fawkes, who tried to contrive being the picture of innocence. He fanned out his beautiful tail and tapped his feet on the armrest.

"Maybe he's trying to tell you something."

"Like what?"

"Like 'You're still here', for example," Dumbledore said seriously.

Fawkes chattered loudly and flapped his wings.

"Still here?"

"Yes. You are still here in this office – and it's certainly not that I do not enjoy your company," Dumbledore went on, "But you really ought to be speaking to someone else."

"Oh. Yes. Of course."

Professor McGonagall got up from her seat and straightened out her robes. Fawkes flew to Dumbledore and sat down on his desk.

The tall witch turned around and went to the door, where she paused again. Once more she looked at Dumbledore, as though she was trying to figure out whether she had really understood everything correctly.

The old wizard put his quill aside and looked up, smiling broadly.

"Green suits you, Minerva," he said warmly. "You do look very beautiful tonight. Now would you please go and speak to our Potions Master? I truly hope he will decide to stay here."

There was a nervous smile on Professor McGonagall's face, but she nodded and left the office. Dumbledore leant forward and scratched Fawkes's back, and he immediately found just in that very favorite spot where the phoenix liked it best.

"Well done, Fawkes," he declared. "Well done. I believe our assistance will not be required any further. What do you think about visiting Aberforth? I am quite certain he will have one or two chicken legs for you."

Fawkes whistled happily and flew to sit on Dumbledore's shoulder. This would after all become a nice evening.


	22. Folie à Deux, encore une fois

**Chapter 21 – Folie à Deux (encore une fois)**

_**(Tibby POV)**_

Tibby used one of her cleaning rags for a handkerchief, blew her nose violently, and then threw the rag into the fire. Still sniffling, she looked up at her master.

"But..." she tried one more time, before he cut her short with an impatient wave of his hand.

"No, Tibby," he said decidedly. "_No_. There is no need for any further discussion."

The house-elf's vision blurred once again, and she rapidly blinked her tears away. Professor Snape did not like it when she cried openly.

As a matter of fact, he had so far been uncannily patient during her impromptu performance of The Hysterical House-Elf, Act One. But the point was that Tibby was _not acting_. She was genuinely unhappy.

"Tibby could..." she argued while frantically looking around as though that would help her to find the right arguments.

By chance, her gaze finally settled on a large jar containing ground leaves of _Stapelia gigantean_.

Tibby had learned a bunch about Potion-making during the last few months. She had learned the names and properties of most of the weird substances all these glass jars held. This one, for example, was also called _Zulu Giant_, or _Starfish Flower_. It was extremely expensive, and smelled of rotting meat.

"Tibby could make mistakes!" Tibby declared while she darted to the shelf and seized the jar.

She smashed it against the floor with all her might, and was immediately enshrouded in a cloud of ill-reeking flower dust. Tibby lunged at the next jar without bothering to see what it held, and smashed it as well.

Something cold and slimy oozed out of the heap of shards, and mixed with the _Stapelia_. The two substances hissed softly when they started to react with each other, and fetid-smelling violet smoke rose into the air. The sickening smell was overpowering.

"Tibby could b-break stuff!" the house-elf managed through clenched teeth. "House-elves get clothes when they fails their duty!"

With watering eyes – the stench really was quite horrible, and Tibby felt her stomach cramp – she looked at Professor Snape. Master had jumped back just in time and stared at the mess on his office floor with an almost curious expression on his pale face.

"Dragon bile and ground Starfish Flower," he commented while watching the stuff. The slimy goo hissed softly, and the mixing components now emitted a new kind of yellowish smoke that felt like acid on Tibby's face.

"With this, you have almost outdone Mr Longbottom," Professor Snape decided.

Then he fixed his black eyes on Tibby, and she knew that she was in trouble now. This was the kind of stare she did not like to see on her master's face.

"Now Professor Dumbledore must give clothes to Tibby," she explained, speaking a little too loud and faking a grin, because she did not feel half as confident as she would have liked to be.

Snape, however, appeared to have understood what she meant to say. The expression on his face changed subtly – although there still was anger, Tibby also thought that he looked resigned, and as though he was trying to suppress a bitter smile. But mostly resigned.

"The Headmaster is a kind and forgiving man," he said harshly, as though that was a bad thing. "He will not give clothes to you just for that."

He paused, and stared at Tibby for another few seconds, with that bitter smile becoming more evident now.

"You belong to Hogwarts," her master informed her, and something in his voice told her that she would have to accept this fact. "You belong to Hogwarts, and that means you will _not_ come with me when I leave."

Tibby lowered her head and bit her lip. Tears welled up once more, and she did not even bother to wipe them away.

"Clean this mess up," her master said quietly, almost kindly. "And then get started with your work. All the instruments I have laid out on my desk belong to me. Wrap them carefully, and then pack them in a crate."

He turned and left his office. Tibby sniffed and wiped her face with another rag. Master did not even look at her. He opened a large trunk in his living room and started to put books from his shelves into it.

Tibby sighed and looked at the gooey mess on the floor, and on her feet. She closed her eyes and hummed a little chant that she had learned from her mother. It was house-elf magic, and a very useful charm. Instantly the reeking stink disappeared and the air smelled fresh and clean. Tibby would still have to clean up, but at least the sickening stench was gone.

Her master looked up and shot one look at Tibby.

"No more magic," he said, and Tibby nodded.

She knew that he was still angry about her misbehaviour – even if he understood her reasons – and cleaning the hard way was what she now got as a 'reward'. True to his word, Professor Snape had proven that he was quite good at thinking up appropriate punishments when she deserved them.

Tibby put on protective gloves (unfortunately they counted as cleaning utensils, not as clothes) and set to work. First, she had to pick all the shards of broken glass out of the mess without cutting herself. She worked quietly for a while, almost enjoying on the difficile task. It helped her concentrate on her work.

Eventually she had collected all the glass and started scouring the floor with a hard brush. Once in a while, a few more tears escaped and fell on her hands, but Tibby continued to work.

Professor Snape would leave Hogwarts, and Tibby would help to pack all his personal belongings but she would not accompany him. She felt miserable.

After a few minutes, she had cleaned almost all of the goo away. When someone knocked on the door of Master's living room, it almost startled Tibby. She ran to open the door, but did not want to touch it with her gooey hands. Professor Snape sent her away while she still was fumbling with the gloves.

"Go," he simply ordered.

Tibby obediently returned to the office room and kicked the connecting door with her foot in order to shut it. Ever since Professor Flitwick had caught her eavesdropping, she had been very careful to demonstrate that she respected her master's privacy and did not listen any more.

Today, however, things were different. Tibby had not kicked the door hard enough, so it still stood slightly ajar and Tibby heard what was going on in the other room. Professor Snape had greeted his visitor with a rude "What do you want?", then there was silence for a few seconds.

Tibby was just about to close the connecting door when the visitor answered.

"Obviously, I came to see you," she heard the Deputy Headmistress say. "Are you going to let me in?"

"Of course," Master replied stiffly.

Tibby froze in her tracks. She knew immediately that _this_ would be a conversation she wanted to witness.

For quite a while, Professor McGonagall had been a very welcome guest in these quarters and had sometimes even stayed for the night, and then her visits had suddenly stopped. Tibby did not know why this was so, but she did harbour a few suspicions.

Instead of closing the door, Tibby crouched down and continued her work as quietly as possible. She heard Professor McGonagall enter the living room and then stop abruptly after a few steps.

"Well?" Snape asked frostily while closing the door. "What can I do for you?"

"You're packing already?" McGonagall answered with a counter-question. "But it's still two more weeks until the end of the school year. When do you plan to leave?"

"As soon as possible," Tibby's master informed her bluntly. "No doubt that old meddler has told you that as well. I should have known he would not stick to his promise."

Snape's tone of voice was so belligerent that Tibby took her gloves off and sneaked back to the door. Hardly daring to breathe, she watched the two persons in the next room.

Professor McGonagall stood in the middle of the living room, in front of the open trunk. Master still stood next to the door, and although he looked murderous he avoided looking at her. The witch turned slowly and looked at him, acting as though she needed to think hard to understand his words.

"Do you mean Albus?" she eventually asked. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Naturally, he informed me that you wished to resign, but he did not tell me any details."

Tibby did have the impression that the lady knew more, but did not wish to admit this fact.

The house-elf smirked. She knew from personal experience that handling the Potions Master and his moods was delicate work, and she also knew that the Deputy Headmistress usually was quite good at it. Even if she looked a little pale right now.

"Then…" Snape said slowly, as though trying to work out whether he could trust her words, "why are you here?"

"You can't expect me to let you go just like that, without telling me why."

Tibby saw Professor McGonagall bite her lip, as if she had said something she now regretted. Two spots of pink appeared on her cheekbones, highlighting her pallor, and Tibby suddenly realised that she looked extremely anxious.

Master had not noticed a thing. He still refused to look at McGonagall. Eventually he crossed the room and went to stand next to the fireplace.

"Minerva," he said mockingly, staring at the flames in the hearth, "why would I _wish_ to stay here with that bother known as Potter in the castle? You don't actually believe that I like teaching?"

Tibby knew immediately that he had lied. And so did the Head of Gryffindor House.

"Your teaching methods verge on the sadistic, and I do certainly not approve of them. But I never had the impression that you dislike teaching."

"You are wrong," he hissed.

The witch inhaled deeply as though she was about to object and start arguing out of old habit, but then she held her words back and let the comment pass. She nodded mutely, and continued to study Snape's back.

"Then what about your friends here?" she said after a few uncomfortable seconds had passed.

"Friends?" Master finally looked up, as though contemplating the thought.

"Satisfy my curiosity, is there any human being in this castle who would truly miss me?" he said, once more in that faked mocking tone of voice. "Apparently Tibby is sorry to see me leave – inexplicably so – but won't you all be glad to be rid of that greasy git of a Potions Master?"

McGonagall looked at him, dumbstruck for a moment, only her lips were trembling as though she had just received a painful blow. Then Tibby saw her straighten up. Her eyes were sparkling with anger.

"How _dare_ you."

Professor Snape turned around, and for the first time since she had entered the room, their eyes met.

"How dare you say that?" she repeated coldly. "Not too long ago you sat in this very room and called me a friend. I was foolish enough to assume you were speaking the truth."

Professor McGonagall turned on the spot and made her way to the door. She already had her hand on the door knob when Snape's voice stopped her.

"Wait," he said, sounding strangely weary.

Tibby held her breath while Professor McGonagall paused, and finally decided to turn back and face Tibby's master again. She still looked hurt and angry, but was apparently willing to listen to him.

"I know I said that," Snape said awkwardly. "I – I meant it, too. Minerva, you know I consider you a friend. But..."

She smiled, very tensely, and stepped a little closer.

"But?"

"But," Snape said exasperatedly, "you and I both know that this friendship has become a little bit too complicated. It might be a good idea if I left for a while."

Professor McGonagall again looked away from Snape, and Tibby saw her swallow nervously.

"I don't want you to leave," she all but whispered, "not even for a short while."

And all of a sudden Tibby realised what this tall witch was trying to say.

This was most wonderful! Tibby felt a madly happy grin appear on her face. She loved romantic stories with a happy ending. This one might even turn out to be better than the book she had borrowed from one of the kitchen house-elves ('_Red Roses and White Lace_', by Sylvia Sylver.)

Now Professor Snape would certainly decide to stay at Hogwarts. Tibby looked at her master, but to her great disappointment Snape's expression still was bitter. He had not understood. Tibby almost stomped her foot. Wizards!

"I am afraid it is not your decision whether I leave Hogwarts," he said with a shrug.

McGonagall looked up, and this time she was the one who looked slightly exasperated although her lips were still trembling.

"Do you absolutely have to make this harder than it already is?" she sighed.

They exchanged another long look, and then something in Snape's expression changed while he studied her face. The Deputy Headmistress held his gaze, although it was obvious that it cost her great effort.

"You are... _afraid_," Snape finally observed, slightly bewildered.

"Why?" he added a few seconds later, when it became apparent that she would not answer.

"I am afraid I might say something wrong," she finally admitted. "Whatever I choose to say, it might just... oh, it might make you stick to your decision."

"You won't talk me out of it," Snape said, very quietly. "Not after what happened the other night."

Tibby did not know what exactly her master spoke about, but it was not _that_ hard to guess his meaning. She grinned slyly, although she felt sorry for Master. It really was a bit sad to see that he was so inexperienced in emotional matters.

Apparently Professor McGonagall had also come to the conclusion that the Potions Master was not just being stubborn, but also... well, a bit stupid about this matter. She would need to speak plainly.

"You know," she said, gently, as though speaking to a scared child. "I am sorry for what I said in front of Cuthbert. I was angry, and got carried away. What happened... I suppose I should not have called it 'stupid' or 'meaningless'. It did matter to me."

"I know that you exaggerated for Cuthbert!" Snape snapped. "He needed a healthy dose of shock in that moment. But even if you say now that it wasn't a totally stupid thing to do, that's –"

He broke off abruptly, as though he had held his tongue just in time. Even so, the unspoken words _just not enough_ seemed to ring in the air. Snape drew in a deep breath.

"– that is a development which makes a close friendship almost impossible," he finished lamely while turning away. "If we wish to remain friends, we should keep a safe distance for a while."

Tibby could tell that McGonagall had also picked up the omitted words. For a second, there was a wry smile on her face, then she grew serious again.

"Oh, Severus," she said, "believe me, I understand. We've grown so close, and yet we always kept telling ourselves and anyone else that it was purely a platonic friendship – and now _this_. It does make things complicated."

"Exactly, and that is why we should not see each other for a while. It's so easy to add up friendship and sex, and come to the wrong conclusion," Snape stated firmly.

He turned back around and even smiled a little bit, as though he believed that he had finally convinced the Head of Gryffindor House to let him leave. She looked him levelly in the eyes.

"Or the right one," she said calmly.

Snape's smile faltered.

Tibby felt her heart beat so hard that she was afraid it was loud enough to give her presence away. But both Snape and McGonagall did not seem to pay attention to their surroundings. They simply stood and looked at each other without saying a word.

The tiny house-elf held her breath. Something was wrong. This was kind of uneasy pause that made one notice all those unspoken thoughts lurking beneath a surface of silence. Professor McGonagall eventually attempted an uneasy smile, and she nodded so subtly that it was almost no movement at all.

Snape stared at her. The expression on his face was unreadable, except for a flicker of naked fear in his eyes.

"Don't mock me," he said, sounding strangely hoarse.

Tibby all of a sudden remembered the pictures of the beautiful red-haired girl, and she felt a surge of hatred although she did not even know who that girl was. All Tibby knew was that this redhead must have hurt Master terribly, if he was that unwilling to believe that anyone could love him.

"I'd never mock you, Severus," McGonagall answered gently. "Well, not about this, in any case."

He did not reply. His face still was impassionate, but Tibby thought his eyes were silently begging for those words to be the truth.

"Not about this, _never_," she reassured. "You stubborn man, I'm trying to tell you that I do love you."

Five very long seconds passed.

Then, Tibby decided, she must have blinked because she had not even seen Master move trough the room. How long did it take an elf to blink, 0.3 seconds maybe? At any rate, that was about the time it had taken Master to cross the room, push Professor McGonagall against the wall and start kissing her.

Tibby let out a great sigh, feeling as though she had been holding it for hours. She watched the kissing couple fondly. This was definitely _much_ better than '_Red Roses and White Lace_'.

Finally, they broke apart. And finally, Master smiled – a genuine, relaxed, happy smile.

"You're mad," he informed the witch in his arms. "Raving mad. I fell in love with you a long while ago, but you loving me back, that is... insanity."

By now, Tibby was beside herself with joy. She felt like jumping and singing and dancing, but she kept very still. She did not want to be noticed, not so much because she was afraid of the consequences, but because she did not wish to ruin this happy moment.

Professor McGonagall now also was smiling broadly, but she pretended to be serious.

"Now look who is talking," she chided. "_You_ are the one who must have lost his mind. Do you have any idea how old I am?"

"I don't care the least bit."

He kissed her forehead, and suddenly the ever-so-serious witch started laughing.

"It seems Poppy was right with her diagnosis, after all," she giggled.

"What about?"

"When she declared us mad, both believing the exact same nonsense. Don't you remember, when we came back from London? Folie à deux?"

"That's right; I had almost forgotten that. Folie à deux, a madness shared by two – how very appropriate."

Both laughed, and Tibby was so overwhelmed that she felt tears well up in her eyes.

"Now what?" Professor McGonagall asked a few moments later.

"Now... now I get to kiss you again," Master decided. "And then... we'll see."

Tibby dabbed her eyes with another cleaning rag while they kissed again. She watched the couple for another minute, then Tibby finally closed the door to the living room.

That kiss had just crossed the line from 'passionately loving' to 'nothing but passionate', and Tibby did have a feeling that she ought to stop peeping through the door crack. Like all elves, she was curious by nature, but there were some things Tibby would rather not observe – at least not if she wanted to ever look at her master again without blushing violently.

Tibby looked around in the office, trying to think of other things. She cleaned the rest of the gooey stuff off the floor in less than two minutes. Then she did not quite know what to do next.

Master had earlier given her specific instructions to start packing his belongings. Technically she had to follow his orders.

It was a very, very, _very_ bad thing when a house-elf did not do as he or she had been told, and Tibby had never before disobeyed on purpose. She did not even know if it was possible for her to reject a direct order.

For a long time, Tibby stared at the alchemy instruments laid out on Master's desk. Then she took one silver knife and carried it back into the laboratory instead of wrapping and packing it. With shaking fingers, she put it back in the drawer where her master had usually kept it.

She closed her eyes and held her breath, waiting anxiously what would happen. Certainly she would now be struck by lightning, or at least be hit by some kind of elf-punishing curse.

Instead, nothing happened.

Carefully, she opened her eyes again and gasped for air. The silver knife still was in the drawer. And Tibby still was alive.

Tibby jumped with joy and darted back to the office.

She would _disobey_, and put Professor Snape's belongings back into his workroom to make sure that he would stay at Hogwarts, together with Professor McGonagall. Tibby would do her small share to ensure a Very Happy Ending.


	23. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**...because at the end of every story, there are a few loose ends to tie up.**

* * *

_"World Exclusive Interview with J K Rowling", South West News Service, 8 July 2000:_

_Question: Where do the Hogwarts teachers live during the school holidays? Do they stay at Hogwarts?_

_JKR's answer: No, they don't. Filch, the caretaker, stays._

This is, naturally, quite understandable.

Even the most passionate teacher looks forward to a few weeks far, far away from a place where one frequently has to debate whether to mark an essay up (just one grade) because of the effort the student clearly has put in, or whether to mark it down (just one grade) because the student in question is Neville Longbottom.

Plus, why would anyone choose to stay at Hogwarts when Filch stays?

It is, for example, a well-known fact that Minerva McGonagall regularly enjoys a few quiet weeks away from it all in her very cosy cottage somewhere in the vicinity of Loch Ness.

Severus Snape also is known to return to his home in a Muggle town every summer, although for some reason his Muggle neighbours have not actually seen him there ever since the summer of 1992.

Xenophilius Lovegood, editor-in-chief of _The Quibbler_, claims to have accidentally met Snape a few times during summer field trips to Scotland. But Xenophilius has never attached too much importance to those chance meetings, after all, the discovery of a Blubbering Humdinger close to Loch Ness is of greater importance than the whereabouts of a Hogwarts teacher.

* * *

_Red Nose Day Chat, BBC Online, March 12, 2001:_

_Question: Have any of the Hogwarts professors had spouses?_

_JKR's answer: Good question - yes, a few of them, but that information is sort of restricted - you'll find out why..._

Restricted, eh? That's interesting.

Of course, there may be a perfectly rational explanation. It certainly has nothing to do with the fact Hogwarts would just not be the same any more if the students ever found out that the Heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin are... well, friendly.

* * *

_Friendly? What do you mean, _friendly_?_

_We've worked our way through this epic drama of misunderstandings and hurt feelings, house-elf abuse, alien encounters (er, make that Muggle encounters), serious discussions in overly romantic locations where the whisky does not taste too bad, less serious encounters with old-fashioned ghosts, very serious discussions whether Snape prefers blonde curls or black buns, passionate arguments, passionate... whatever, fortune-telling, basilisk-battling, and, finally, yet another chapter of house-elf eavesdropping and... and... now you're _not_ going to tell us that they will live happily ever after?_

_That's it? You palm us off with a few hints about a secretly consummated relationship and holidays spent together in a cosy cottage?_

Exactly. The rest is entirely up to your imagination.

Come on, I know you have already formed a vivid mental image of that charming cottage. And of what they are doing there. Right now, in _your_ dirty mind.

(They are arguing about Quidditch, of course.)

* * *

_And Gilderoy? What about our favourite Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award? (And the Order of Merlin, Third Class. But we don't talk about that.)_

Gilderoy Lockhart finds that life at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries is quite enjoyable. The nurses are friendly, the food is alright, and best of all one of the Healers has promised that she will teach him how to handle a wand once he actually remembers that he is a wizard.

Gilderoy was happy to learn that he apparently was very popular with his former colleagues. Two of them have already come to visit him. There was a stern-looking woman in robes of green tartan who said that he did her a great favour, even if he did not intend to do so, and that she felt she had to thank him for that even though he does not deserve it.

Two days later, a rather good-looking fellow in black robes dropped in for a visit. He was not as polite as the woman; in fact he commended Gilderoy with a number of creative insults before he also thanked Gilderoy.

Gilderoy has no idea what the two of them referred to, but he thinks that he must have done a jolly good deed. He asked the second visitor whether he would come to see him again, and was very surprised when the wizard exclaimed "Hell, no!", turned on his heel and positively stormed out of the room.

* * *

_Alright, that's Goldilocks's future sorted out. But Tibby? What about faithful Tibby, who did her best to make her Master not turn his back on Hogwarts?_

Excerpt from "The treatment of House-Elves in British History", by Hermione Granger-Weasley, S.P.E.W. Press 2001:

"(...) in modern history, there is even one known case of a house-elf who deliberately acted against her master's orders and did not have to face grave consequences. In fact, this particular elf called Tibby was actually rewarded for her act of disobedience. Unfortunately Tibby's master S. Snape chose not to disclose any details on why he decided to requite Tibby for committing an act of disobedience."

* * *

_Ah, but you forgot Sybill! Poor, misunderstood Sybill who knew all along that it was a basilisk..._

In 2008, shortly after publishing her semi-autobiographic novel _Petulant Prophetess_, Sybill Trelawney was interviewed by _Daily Prophet_ reporter Rita Skeeter. Rita was especially interested in everything Sybill had to say about her former colleagues at Hogwarts, and Sybill was happy to provide her with details.

She remembered, for example, that at the end of the 1992/1993 school year, all of the other Hogwarts Professors apologised to her because they had not believed that she had seen the basilisk in a tarot card reading.

Sybill remembers fondly that it was the Potions Master who expressed a formal apology on behalf of the whole staff:

"Oh yes, that's right, he even said that my input to the discussion was _'well-researched, insightful, and enlightening'_ – and that when it was obviously so hard for him to voice that apology. Dear, I could see it in his face how very difficult it was for him to admit defeat. You know, furrowed brow, clenched teeth – my, he did not look happy. But, mind you, he _did_ say it. – Not at all like our Deputy Headmistress who did not utter a word; she just stood in the background looking smug, as though _she_ had somehow made him express that apology. – On second thought, I do believe dear Severus later had a word with her about that. He did say something about making her pay later on... but clearly she must have misunderstood his meaning because she said she was looking forward to it."

* * *

_So, that's really it? The end of _Folie à Deux_?_

That's it. Thank you so much for reading my fic, I hope you enjoyed it.

- Frank


End file.
